Confessions of an Anonymous Gryffindor Girl
by Girl Spoonerism
Summary: Two girls in Harry’s year and house have been omitted from the series. One of them would like you to acknowledge her existence, please.
1. Introducing Mona Li sans Sa

**A/N: **This story might not pan out well but I felt like writing it. So there. :P

**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP. If I did, Orange Crush monstrosity would not have ensued.

---

Dear Diary,

Hi. My name is Mona Li.

…sa?

Shut up.

Yeah, so it's just Mona Li.

Today's-or rather tonight's-my first time at Hogwarts. It's not so bad. I can't wait to do magic, but that's tomorrow. I'll be turning twelve on October 31st, which will be overshadowed by Halloween as always. It's also a bugger that I couldn't bring my computer or my CD player over-Mum says the school makes technology go all wonky. It's a real shame, because technology is pretty much my life.

The above statement might seem a little strange, huh? It's because I grew up in a very Muggle-ish household. Sure, Mum subscribes to the _Daily Prophet_ and we use Floo Powder, but I've never been really exposed to any real sort of magic-mainly due to fact that my mum's a Squib and my dad's a total Muggle. Because of this my parents thought that I would never be accepted into Hogwarts or any sort of wizarding school for that matter. Turns out they were wrong after all. Which I'm very glad of.

…And yet, I'm not. As of now I am homesick. See, I knew having a journal diary thingy would be a bad idea. It makes me think far too much of home. There's really not much to miss. Just Mum and Dad and Puck and my bed and the backyard and technology…

But Mum insists so I guess I'll have to. She'll skim through the pages to see if I actually wrote in it or not. She says and I quote "it'll be a good psychological exercise if you pen your wonderful experiences on paper and dispel your worries and fears into a non-responsive inanimate object neutral to your ambivalent thoughts."

I had to ask her to repeat that several times before I got the hang of it.

My mum's an agony aunt. She's a lot of other things too, but I can't remember them all. She does odd jobs and runs errands and such. Not that I'm going to tell anyone though.

Now, back to me.

I don't mean to sound arrogant about it. It's just, a diary is a person's private thoughts, right? So it should be about me.

You can note that I'm a very indecisive person.

I'm also a bit of a blabbermouth. I'm really annoying to some people. Which amazes others because I can be as silent as a…well. I was never good with similes. Or analogies, come to think of it.

But anyway, the feast was really good. I mean really. All that food! I tried to eat everything. Which usually means I didn't eat enough. Ah well. I also couldn't help but shoot quick glances in Harry Potter's direction. I mean, the Harry Potter! He looked surprisingly ordinary for someone who's a legend. Kind of geeky too. I always imagined some sort of muscleman with a cape flapping in the breeze tied about his neck. Which is silly anyhow because Mum told me he's around my age.

He looked back at me once, annoyance in his facial expression-Mum says the definition of one's existence can be read in the countenance-so I stopped staring. I kind of have a staring problem. It's what happens when you're alone most of the time. Yes I'm an only child. Which is fine by me because I hate ankle-biters. And animals. Except for Puck, our family owl. He grew on me, that owl did.

Back to me and my staring problem, now…

My staring problem is what got me some sort-of friends on the train. I was running late so all of the compartments were full. I managed to find one with only two girls in it so I went in and did my best to be invisible. Something I happened to be good at, as a matter of fact.

"…NO BLOODY WAY! BEATER IS THE BEST POSITION IN QUIDDITCH!" roared one of the girls across from me. She was really big. I think her hair was blonde.

"But…I don't know anything about it…I was just saying what Uncle told me…" said the other girl beside her, shriveling in a corner. She was really small. She wore pigtails and little frilly pink socks and her glasses kind of took over her face.

"WELL YOUR UNCLE IS STUPID." The big girl huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

The little girl nodded furiously.

"HEY, YOU." The big girl started to notice me, mostly because I was staring at them. I guess I wasn't quite as good as being invisible as I had thought. "WHAT, YOU GOT A STARING PROBLEM?"

"Um, kind of…" I said truthfully.

"WELL, GO FIX IT!" She threw back her head and laughed. "HAHA, YOU'RE FUNNY. WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

I wondered why she was still yelling but I didn't say anything about it. Maybe she was half-deaf or something. "It's Mona. Mona Li." I just had to say my last name. It's not my fault. Not really. It just comes out. I can't really control my mouth, to be honest.

The big girl threw her head back and laughed again. It was more of a honk, really. "WHAT, YOU'RE NAMED AFTER THAT WEIRD SMILING WOMAN?"

"No, that's Mona Li_sa,"_ I corrected her. See why I hated that?

"WHATEVER," huffed the big girl. "I'M BELINDA, BY THE WAY. AND THAT-" she jabbed a finger over to the little girl- "IS CATHLEEN."

"Cassidy, actually," whispered the little girl.

"Hi," I said.

The rest of the train ride was really just Belinda talking really loudly and scaring Cassidy into the point of possible pants-wetting. Belinda's toad and Cassidy's cat were also adding to the noise that was Belinda's voice. I watched the landscape and grew bored. When I bought some Licorice Wands, Pumpkin Pasties, and Bertie Bott's Every-Flavored Beans Belinda ate most of it. I ended up sharing a boat with them and Belinda got us all bloody soaked. Really it was Cassidy but then Belinda was the one who scared her into it. At this point I just really wanted to get away from the pair of them.

When we finally entered the Great Hall we were thankfully separated. I was nervous of course because I did not want to be in Hufflepuff. Everyone knows that without all that sugarcoating they're still a bunch of mongs. There was also the tiniest bit of worry that I deserved to be in Hufflepuff because I was a mong myself, but I eased this worry some by reciting the alphabet backwards in Parseltongue. I don't really know Parseltongue but I memorized some bits and things when this really interesting television program came on starring Manny the Magician who happened to be a former Dark wizard. That show got cancelled a few days later because parents didn't want their precious babies learning the Dark Arts and stuff but Mum didn't mind. She told me something really philosophical as an explanation but I forgot it.

Anyway Belinda and Cassidy were before me. Belinda got Sorted into Ravenclaw and Cassidy got sorted into Slytherin. After recovering from my shock I got up there with my knees knocking together and was sorted into Gryffindor which is funny because I don't think I'm all that brave. And I told the Sorting Hat so.

_'Well that's what they all think'_ said the Sorting Hat, amused. _'So of course it'll be-'_

And then it screamed "GRYFFINDOR!" and blew out my eardrums.

The Gryffindor table applauded for me and I squeezed in between two people I didn't know. They weren't very happy because I was really wet. Which was not my fault, I might add. And then…well, I've already told you the rest.

Now I'm lying in my bed and writing as fast as I can under the faint light of my wand. 14 inches, linden, dragon heartstring. Very interesting combo said the wandmaker. I don't know what he means by it but he sounded an awful lot like Mum so I just tuned him out. I like my wand though. It looks wicked.

My eyes are really heavy with sleep, so I'll stop now.


	2. Two Rambling Entries

**A/N:** Upped the rating because Mona has a potty mouth. Hehe.

---

Dear Diary,

A week's past. I've come to a conclusion: magic is not all it's cracked up to be. All of it's rather dull, except Herbology. You would think Charms and Transfiguration would be the most exciting but I can't seem to get anything to work, save for the Lumos spell Mum taught me. I'm starting to believe I'm a Squib after all. But then again, that would make everyone else in class a Squib except for Hermione Granger, so I shouldn't really be jumping to conclusions.

I haven't made any friends yet. Well, there's Belinda and Cassidy but they don't count, and I haven't seen them at all since the first day. The girls in my dorm are bimbos. Well, just Lavender and Parvati, really. They don't like me much because I accidentally spilled ink all over their autographed Gilderoy Lockhart poster. Hermione used a spell and got rid of the mess quick but when I apologized I told them that Gilderoy Lockhart was kind of ugly anyway so they should have been thanking me instead. It was supposed to be a joke but they were seriously wounded when the words came out of my mouth. I've never been good at apologies, truth be told. Great. Another thing to be added to a list of things I've never been good at:

1. Being invisible (I swear I thought I was good at this)  
2. Not staring at people 3. Similes 4. Analogies 5. _Apologizing_

There's a lot more to be added but it seems kind of odd if I spend all my time thinking up things I'm not all that skilled at. Anyway, Hermione seems too busy poring over books and looking all scholarly so I don't dare approach her. Not that I would even if she wasn't so occupied. I don't strike up conversation with people or make the first move in any circumstances. People are supposed to come to me. And if they don't that's fine. I like being by myself. I'm used to it. Mum used to worry over this "passive philosophy" of mine but she reassures herself with some brandy and the "it's-just-a-stage-she'll-get-over-it" tactic. She thought my "refreshing but sometimes intimidating and offense-inflicting oblivious frankness" was just a stage too but it seems to be a "permanent fixture". Oh dear, I'm starting to sound like Mum.

Moving on, now…

There's also another girl named Sally-Anne but she hasn't said a word to anyone. I overheard Lavender gossiping about her. Apparently Sally-Anne's her second cousin and Sally-Anne has a chronic case of shyness because of some terrible trauma that occurred when she was little and although it came out of Lavender's mouth it's probably true. She blushes and drops things whenever someone utters so much as a word in her general direction and when we had to introduce ourselves to each other in Charms she turned red and excused herself to the girls' privy. And I thought I didn't belong in Gryffindor.

Anyway, having a walking talking legend in all of your classes really deflates said legend. I mean, Harry's just so normal. And geeky. But he's really nice! Well, I wouldn't know personally but he was talking to a freckly gangly redheaded boy also in Gryffindor and he seemed friendly enough during the conversation.

…Now that I think of it, it's rather pathetic that I have to resort to eavesdropping in order to have a social life. But come off it, can you really tune people out on purpose when you're interested in they're is saying? No.

…it's also rather pathetic that I'm writing so much in here when I've never been a diary person before, also in order to have a social life.

Now I've made myself crabby. What's so dear about this diary anyway? Why should I give you a term of endearment when you're just a silly little plaything? An excuse for a lunatic? (That's what Dad says. Not sure what he means.) Why, I should drop you in the toilet.

…but I kind of like writing in here.

Love,  
Mona Li (nix to the 'sa')

-:-

Dear Inanimate Object,

I'm trying out new names for you. If they cause offense I don't care. You're just an inanimate object. Savvy?

This is hereby my complaining entry.

Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts, is horrid and deserves to be dipped in tartar sauce. Same goes for Mrs. Norris, his stupid cat. What's up with the 'Mrs.' anyway? Filch is such a freak. Maybe I should eat Mrs. Norris and "subject myself to an extremely racist stereotype" as Mum would say whenever I was being sarcastic and self-hating. I got detention for spilling frog guts on the floor which was an accident by the way. Why would I want to spill frog guts on the floor? I need them for Potions. Now Mum is going to scold me for being clumsy when I tell her I need money for frog guts. I don't really get pocket money, although every now and then Dad remembers to send me some. That's because my mum is a cheapskate. Come to think of it, she's subjected herself to an extremely racist stereotype as well. The bloody hypocrite!

Then there's Peeves the bloody Poltergeist. I got five points off from Snape for being late to class, all because Peeves told me he was part of the Ghostly Guide Committee which helped first-years find their classrooms. He led me to the Astronomy tower and left cackling while I had to convince a nun in a painting to help me find the way. Nearly everyone glared at me as Snape was deducting points. I mean really. Points are stupid. They're just a reason to get everyone all hyped up over nothing. What's so great about a stupid cup that keeps getting passed along?

And nextly was the bloody flying lesson today. I said 'up' a bloody thousand times and my bloody broom didn't bloody move at all, so I just picked it up off the ground but then Madam Hooch bloody caught me and bloody ordered me to do it the bloody right way or else. So I said "UP!" in a very loud voice several times and still nothing happened. I kicked it once and it started _chasing me!_ At least when I slap my computer keyboard it doesn't retaliate. But no one helped me because Neville (this really clumsy boy in my class who's a bit of a wuss) broke his arm and Madam Hooch took him to the hospital wing and everyone else was too busy watching Harry Potter fly really well. It was until Harry went off with McGonagall that Madam Hooch saw fit to do undo whatever jinx had been put upon it. By that time I was sweating a whole lot from running and my throat was sore from bloody yelling my head off.

And worse of all was when I bumped into Cho Chang and her stupid friends. She's a second-year but she's only a few months older than me. Blasted 'you MUST be eleven in order to be in Hogwarts! No buts!' rule! Anyway, Cho is a family friend but I don't really know her all that much anymore, although our parents still talk. When we were really little we'd play pretend together but that stopped quick when we fought over who got to play with Wanda the Wonder Witch doll. I thought I should because I was always stuck with Wendy the Weird Witch doll and besides I was younger. But Cho argued that she should always have Wanda because she was older, so I pushed her and she pulled my hair and when I bit her she started crying and I got a spanking. After that we only kind of hung out at those really annoying and embarrassing family get-togethers that Asian parents sometimes randomly throw. I didn't really care however because Cho is kind of a stick in the mud and she's never really stuck up for me but she's really popular, especially with the boys. Maybe it's because of her long, shining black hair or the fact she's got breasts. That would explain why the only thing I attract is dust-my hair is really short (I prefer it that way) and I'm a late bloomer. Not that I care. Merlin's beard, I'm only eleven.

At any rate I was a sight to see. I fell while the bloody broomstick was chasing me so I rolled over once or twice before getting up and running again which resulted in my robes being caked in dirt. My hair was all clingy and damp from perspiration and I was still squinting from the sun. All in all, I looked like I just got out of Herbology class. "Ch-Cho?" I said, making out her figure.

Cho smiled hesitantly. "Hi, Mona." Her friends tittered like little birds. Little birds that I wanted to strangle. "Hi. Well…see you," I said as normally as I could. Then I turned around and tried to walk away as fast as my skinny stick legs could carry me. Only I tripped over a rock and fell flat on my face for the second time that day.

Cho called out, "Are you okay, Mona?" And I could tell she was trying not to laugh. I got up with what little dignity I had left and said stiffly, "I'm fine" before barreling out of there, the sound of renewed twittering still echoing in my ears.

You would think Fate would give me a break after all the blows it's dealt me but no, I go to bathe and Moaning Myrtle's there and she makes my bath all cold because I offended her when she was whining to me about how dead she was and I told her she needed to get over it and move on in the politest way possible.

Now I'm shivering under my covers.

Plus I've just realized

Sally-Anne _snores._


	3. An Identity Crisis, Of Sorts

Dear Bartholomew,

What do you know? I have friends now.

Don't bother looking all happy for me-although you can't really anyway, because you're a book, and the only thing you can do is stare blankly-pun not intended-moving, on now-don't bother looking all happy for me, because it's that Belinda and that Cassidy and they've managed to find me.

"There you are!" said Belinda, finally speaking in a normal tone of voice. I was right: she is big and she is blonde. "So this is where you've been? Hunched in a corner of the library? I wouldn't have thought to look here!"

By the way, this was during break. I always go to the library during break. It's better than leaning against the castle wall all alone, pretending to look cool (Neville Longbottom does that sometimes). I've just found out about wizarding romance novels and according to the symptoms specified by my mother, I am addicted to them. They're much more interesting than Muggle ones, because when you add that touch of hocus pocus things get a bit kinkier. I've read nine of them now and my favorite one so far is_ Aphrodisiacadabra_. I haven't checked any of them out because Madam Pierce might blow an artery. She's getting a bit suspicious, though. She keeps hovering near me, dusting a book here and there, trying to see what I'm reading. It's too bad for her because I hold the book flat on my lap and when I'm done for the day I put it back, but only when she's distracted. I think it's slowly eating her up inside. What a mad old bat. All right, no more random tangents…

Belinda folded her arms and glared. "What do you have to say for yourself, Mona?"

I looked up at her. "Yes, I've been in the library. Hi, Cassidy."

Cassidy came out from behind Belinda's bulk and seemed tinier than I remembered. Today she wore little frilly green socks. I wondered if she had a color for every day of the week. "Hi," she said timidly.

"Well, why've you been avoiding us?" Belinda demanded. "Aren't we friends?"

"We are?" I repeated.

"Sure! Why not?" Belinda retorted. She slapped Cassidy on the back. Cassidy toppled over, scrambled up, and pushed her glasses back onto her nose.

I shrugged. "Okay, sorry."

Belinda sat down next to me. She pushed Cassidy into the chair beside hers. "So what are you doing?" Belinda asked.

"Reading wizarding romance novels," I said.

"That trash?" scoffed Belinda. "What's wrong with you?"

"Lots of things, according to Mum," I answered.

Belinda threw her head back and laughed. "You know what, Mona? I like you." She shoved me playfully.

"Please don't push me," I said.

"Okay," she said.

Cassidy looked at me and then Belinda in disbelief.

"What, Cassidy? Spit it out," Belinda ordered.

"Please don't push me, either," said Cassidy forcefully.

"But you're my favorite punching bag!" said Belinda.

Cassidy gave me a desperate look.

"Don't push her either, please," I said.

"Oh, all right," said Belinda, giving up. "You're really persuasive, did you know that?"

"No," I said. Maybe I was getting used to them or maybe I was feeling lonelier than I thought, because next I asked her, "Why were you talking so loudly on the train?"

"Oh!" She threw back her head and laughed again. "That. My brother was being a git and cast a Deafening Hex on me. He's bad at it, though, so it kind of wore off. Did I tell you I have four older brothers and four younger ones? It can really drive you up the wall…"

And we spent the rest of break talking about her four older brothers and her four younger ones while Cassidy listened to us, although whether she wanted to or not I couldn't tell. It was when we had gone through four conversation topics and were beginning on our fifth that I realized Belinda's not so bad, even if she does come off as a prat. At least she's not turned off by my brutal honesty. In fact, she seems almost fascinated with it-anything I tell her that might be offensive, she just laughs it right off and says she likes me. Cassidy, on the other hand, is just quiet as a mouse and looks like one too. But she seems all right, even if she is in Slytherin. I've found out there's this whole Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry going on and it seems rather stupid to me. Why would you dislike someone just because they're in a different House than you? It's silly, really. One of mankind's worst foibles is the irrepressible need to engage in animosity, says Mum.

Anyway, since I have friends now, I'm going down to the lake tomorrow. And because Belinda said so.

Cordially yours,  
Mona

P.S. Harry's made the Quidditch team and he's only a first-year. That's a big deal to everyone except the daughter of a Squib and a Muggle (i.e., me).

-:-

Dear Rumpelstiltskin,

I'm supposed to be doing a Potions essay right now but I don't really feel much up to it so I thought I might as well I write in you. Everyone hates Potions because of Snape, who's supposedly this nasty piece of work. Evil incarnate, or whatever. I don't actually mind him all that much. His dry sense of humor is really interesting. No wonder I'm not a hit with my fellow Gryffindors. Aside from the losing-points thing, I mean. I think Snape likes me too. At least, he doesn't seem to be as terribly mocking to me as he is to the others.

The lake thing was somewhat fun. Belinda coaxed the giant squid out and was petting it while Cassidy hid behind a tree. We also saw a mermaid. It was really ugly. Cassidy gave us some candy that changed the colors of our tongues. She still doesn't say much. Currently, my tongue is still purple and I don't know whether it's a permanent fixture or not.

Mum and Dad finally wrote me a letter; I got it at breakfast. I was really happy to see Puck, even if he did leave a dropping in my porridge. I'll attach it here (the letter, not the dropping):

_Dear Mona Lamb,_

_I do hope you're writing in that diary. It would be a good psychological exercise if you pen your wonderful experiences on paper and dispel your worries and fears into a non-responsive inanimate object neutral to your ambivalent thoughts _(I told you she said that)_. How are you? What is Hogwarts like? I can only imagine. Please reply back in extreme detail, for my sake._

_Nothing much has been happening here. I've been walking dogs like mad and your father's shop is doing well. We miss you terribly and enclosed is a picture to remind you of us. Your father's going to take over now-no need to push, Harold-here he is-_

_Mona! Your mother's said everything so I actually have nothing to say to you. I feel like a bad dad now but blame it on her. Oh, that's right. The Bric-a-Brac's got a shipment of electric toothpicks, so I'll send you one. Erm…actually, I won't, because your mother says it won't work over there. I hope you're doing well. Show me some magic tricks when you come home for Christmas…er, or not-your mother says you can't do magic outside of school-all right then, I'll end this…_

_Love,  
Mum and Dad_

The picture shows my parents and me on my seventh birthday. Mum and Dad were dressed as witch and wizard, respectively (they're always dressed as witch and wizard for Halloween). They were pretending to duel each other with fake plastic wands while I, dressed as an unwilling pumpkin, looked on with no small amount of embarrassment while passersby laughed and pointed. They had taken me out trick-or-treating after my party (which started becoming a tradition) and made a random stranger take the picture. It moves, too. I pinned the picture on the bit of wall above my four-poster. Every time I look at it my stomach hurts. I've just realized that for the next seven years I won't be able to trick-or-treat and celebrate my birthday with them.

I'll write my parents a letter first, then start on my Potions essay.

-M.

-:-

Dear Bob,

I've been at Hogwarts for about two weeks now and it doesn't seem all that bad anymore. I hardly ever get homesick (but my parents do write to me weekly, after all). I think I'm getting used to this moldy old castle. And oh! I can do magic now! I'm even better than Harry and loads better than Neville. I bet Mum'll be proud of me.

Friends update: Belinda's stopped bullying and teasing Cassidy so much, but she still pushes her around. I found out Belinda and Cassidy are both purebloods. Belinda says I'm a halfblood but Cassidy says I'm most nearly a Muggle. I don't know what to think.

-Mona

-:-

Dear Franklin,

Today I asked McGonagall why Transfiguration is a class. She asked me what I meant so I explained to her it seems a bit like Charms. She told me all branches of magic come from the same tree, but then I told her it seemed that Transfiguration and Charms came from the same branch. McGonagall said that may be so, but Transfiguration is such a big concept it deserved its own branch. Then I asked her shouldn't there be a Jinxing class then and she told me that there was, and it was called Defense Against the Dark Arts. When I said that didn't seem like it because Quirrell doesn't teach us anything at all, she deducted a point for my tactlessness and everyone glared at me. Now I'm planning on bringing down the establishment, along with that stupid points system. I'll have to get a following first. Or else Transfigure the paper airplanes that kept Flying to the back of my head during the last Charms lesson into an angry mob.

Gloomily yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Thelma (I thought you'd like a girl name for once),

I've already told you Herbology's my favorite subject. Only then I didn't know it was Neville's too or I might have retracted my opinion. (Mum says you can't retract an opinion but she's not here to be the judge of that.) Anyway, we got stuck as partners for the Herbology project; we're supposed to pick one of the plants Sprout has in Greenhouse 1 and do research on it, then present it to the class via charts, graphs, posters, etc. We also have to turn in an organized report. Neville got excited when he found out my favorite subject was Herbology too and now he's trying to be my best friend. I'm starting to like Herbology a lot less now.

Neville says we can meet up tomorrow for break. He told me during dinner. He was sitting across from me and sprayed bits of steak on my robes. I told Belinda and Cassidy this and Belinda started teasing me about how I'd make a fine pair with Neville and I told her to shut her face and Cassidy, of course, said nothing at all but she smiled a little when Belinda teased me so I told her to shut her face too.

Today was raining and in Potions the Slytherins nicknamed me Nuggs because I'm not quite Muggle nor pureblood nor even halfblood. Cassidy, of course, did not stick up for me. And when I gave that nasty lot the bird, Snape deducted ten points for obscenity and then I got that synchronized Gryffindor glare for the third time.

The only good thing about today was when Quirrell was demonstrating being attacked by a werewolf and accidentally showed his Y-fronts.

Moodily yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Skohifeiohfsldkfj,

It seems I've been spending almost all of my time with Neville. He sits across from me at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, meaning I get sprayed with crumbs three meals a day. He's also a lot more talkative than he lets on. But he's not that bad. I guess. The project's going well. We picked the Saber-Toothed Tiger Lily and we've checked out books on it in the library. Belinda's teasing me more and more and the Slytherins are calling me Nuggs every chance they get, but that's nothing new.

I'm actually writing this in History of Magic because there's nothing to do now that Belinda's told me I could copy her notes for the next seven years (she uses a stolen Quick Quotes Quill passed down to her through the generations that Binns apparently sucked on himself before he met his Maker), so as long as we remain friends. She seemed a bit embarrassed when she said this, but I said okay.

I have nothing else to write about so I think I'll put my head down and…

-:-

Dear Toaster,

It's hard having friends from other Houses. For one thing, everyone looks at you weird, especially if you're friends with a Slytherin. Plus, there's the problem of where to hang out. Mostly Belinda, Cassidy, and I go out by the lake or stay in the library (Neville tags along now). Mostly we just talk and do homework. Sometimes Belinda lets us copy but Cassidy never wants to. The irony is not lost on me.

"Do you like hanging out with a bunch of girls, Longbottom?" asked Belinda, grinning. She likes flustering Neville.

Neville blushed and said, "Yeah, well, you girls are better than…most people I know." And he got quiet at that.

Belinda for once let the subject drop. Then she noticed I was writing in my diary and she said, "You're a diary person? I could never be, myself. I've started about a hundred of them ever since I was little and I've always tossed them aside in favor of Keeping for my brothers or wrestling in the mud. I can't believe Potter's Seeker! I'm really jealous."

"Grandmum says he's a very special boy," said Neville matter-of-factly.

"…" said Cassidy. (Just to let you know she was there.)

"Still, he shouldn't be spoiled like that," said Belinda. "But I suppose if he's really good…"

"He is!" Neville insisted.

"Whatever," said Belinda. "What do you lot think is on the third floor? I think there's a severe Bundimun infestation they're trying to quarantine but they're too embarrassed to admit something that petty."

Neville's chin wobbled. "There's a…a….a…" We all waited for him to complete his sentence but he continued stuttering.

"What do you think, Mona? Cassidy?" asked Belinda instead. "According to the grapevine there's vampires and Inferi and mutant sunflowers, so any guess would be on the mark."

I shrugged.

"There's a three-headed dog that's guarding a trapdoor," said Cassidy quietly.

We all stared. Cassidy sounded very sure of herself.

"Pansy and the others made me go down there." It was Cassidy's chin's turn to wobble.

"Why?" asked Belinda, astonished.

"Because of you!" Cassidy suddenly shrieked. "You don't know how much they pick on me, because I've got non-Slytherin friends! They bully me and pull my hair and play tricks on me and force me to do all sorts of horrible things! None of them like me and they say I don't deserve to be in Slytherin!" Then she burst into tears. Neville awkwardly patted her shoulder, but Cassidy slapped his hand away. Then we all just sat there in a very uncomfortable silence until Cassidy wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve and hurried away without a word.

"What do you lot think is under the trapdoor?" asked Belinda.

"I don't know, you wanna look?" I said, watching Cassidy's figure shrink into the distance.

"No!" chorused Belinda and Neville, the latter a little too fervently.

"Shouldn't we go after her?" asked Neville.

"Nah," decided Belinda. "She probably stormed to her dorm, which we're not allowed to enter, by the way."

Like I said, it's hard having friends from other Houses.

-M.

P.S. Neville and I got an O+ on our project. Plus extra credit. Hermione was beside herself. (She received a mere O.)

-:-

Dear Microwave (I miss technology, all right?),

Today Cassidy and I were in the library. Neville got detention from Snape and Belinda's in the hospital wing after getting into a duel with Millicent Bulstrode from Slytherin, so that's why it was just the two of us. We tried to visit her but Madam Pomfrey says to come back tomorrow, which I'm guessing means Belinda is either a) unconscious or b) really disfigured.

While I was reading, Cassidy was busy doing her Transfiguration homework. Just as I was on the last page, she asked, "What are you reading?"

I was surprised she was initiating a conversation with me but I answered. "Nothing, now that I've finished the book. It was The Cry of the Augur." I had gotten off my obsession with wizarding romance novels and was now perusing classic wizarding literature.

"Oh, I like that book," she said.

"It's all right," I said.

"What do you think of Belinda?" she said suddenly.

I shrugged. "A bit odd, actually. But likable."

"I think she's mean," Cassidy said, tightlipped.

"Why do you hang out with her, then?" I asked.

Cassidy looked at me, surprised. "I don't know."

"You let her push you around all the time," I pointed out. "Why don't you ever talk and stand up to her?"

"It's just that she's so…" Cassidy muttered, blotting her parchment. Which reminds me: why do wizards and witches use stupid quills and ink when they could be using the much more convenient Pencil and Eraser, à la Muggles? Just because they have magic doesn't mean they have to live in the Dark Ages, for Merlin's sake…

"So what?" I said.

"So…intimidating," Cassidy said, her cheeks turning pink.

"You're a pushover," I said.

Cassidy peered at me. "You know, Belinda may like your honesty, but that doesn't mean everyone does."

"Oh, I know," I said. "But the thing with being frank is that you can't be politically correct, at all. You know how many times I've lost points because I've got no tact?"

"But you're okay," Cassidy said, looking down at her socks (which were purple and frilly). She was blushing while she said it. Why do people blush when they get all sentimental? I'm starting to get irked by it.

"I think you're okay too," I told her. "You'd be even better if you talked like this more. And stopped pretending you hate Belinda when you're just envious of her."

"Shut your face," mumbled Cassidy, but she was smiling all the same.

I guess the phrase "there' s more than meets the eye" is true, after all.

-:-

Dear Television,

Professor Dumbledore is a very funny man. Funny as in strange, not ha-ha, although the former in itself makes him the latter too. Am I making any sense? I had made up a petition advocating the ban of the points system and it only consists of two signatures: mine and Dumbledore's. No one else would sign it, and I left it on the bulletin board for about a week and a half already. Seamus told me it was poor sportsmanship. "But we're not playing sports," I pointed out. Then Seamus groaned and told me to forget it, which is unlikely because I have a pretty sharp memory.

Belinda refused. She said she supported the points system, because it helped her get in touch with her competitive side. Not that it needed any more prodding.

Cassidy refused because she would be thrown into the lake by her fellow Slytherins.

Neville refused because he would be cast into the Forbidden Forest by his fellow Gryffindors.

So I went up to the Headmaster's office with my lone signature. I was staring down the gargoyle when Dumbledore came out of his office, saving me the trouble of guessing the password. "Hello, young lady," he said pleasantly. "I was just going to use the privy, but I'll spare you some time-unless, you are lost?"

"No, I'm not," I said. I showed him my petition. "I'm petitioning against the points system," I explained. "I was hoping you would consider my objection of it and perhaps abolish the aforementioned system."

Dumbledore smiled. "It seems to me that this petition is lacking the voice of the majority." He produced a quill out of nowhere and leaned forward to sign it with a flourish. "I never fancied it either," he confided. "But if you want to ban the Quidditch Cup I'll have to put my foot down."

"So does this mean no points system?" I asked hopefully.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid you'll have to get more signatures. Try for six hundred, Miss Li." His eyes twinkled and I was sure he was only patronizing me.

"Are you just playing along, Professor?" I demanded.

"Oh no. I'm very serious," said Dumbledore. "Now if you'll excuse me, Nature calls." And he strode away, humming a cheery tune, but not before he called "And I give to you an early birthday greeting, Miss Li!" over his shoulder.

Right now the unfinished petition is hanging next to the picture of me and my parents. Of course there's no way I'll be able to get six hundred signatures, so it's not so much as a petition as it is an autograph. Which, oddly enough, is fine with me. After all, there are other ways of bringing down the establishment. Cue diabolical laughter.

Cordially yours,

Mona


	4. A Little More SS Oriented

**A/N:** In case you didn't know, this story will span seven years. I'll try to skim through them faster because honestly at this rate I'll have a gazillion chapters.

--

Dear Nuggs,

Like your name? Well, I do (for you, anyway). Thank the nasty Slytherins for it, if you get the chance (which you never will. They'll grab you and you'll spill your guts, which consist of me spilling my guts, and then I'll have to run away to Australia out of mortification and shame). So don't worry about me changing your name every entry. I'll be sticking to this one.

Today's my birthday, and also Halloween. My parents put five owls to the task of carrying a huge homemade nutty caramel coconut cream cake for me (colored black and orange), plus my present. Dad makes me this cake every year, and it really is the best cake ever. It knocked over my cereal bowl, but I didn't mind. I did mind the fact that when I opened the parcel, the enchanted bat-shaped candles in the cake lit up and started singing "Happy Birthday" in twelve-part harmony. It was very embarrassing; some people started joining in on the song. Kids I didn't even know started wishing me a happy birthday and clamoring for a piece of cake. When the song was done the candles hopped out and the cake severed into nice, even square pieces by itself. I guess my grandmother got involved with the magicking of the cake. The bits of cake were quickly Accio'd away by the student population (and the faculty too-I swear I saw Dumbledore tuck one in, eyes shining merrily), but luckily the cake kept reappearing. Until at last I managed to snag a few pieces for myself and my friends.

I opened my presents in my dorm to avoid further attention. Mum and Dad had gotten me a gilded handheld mirror. Sure it was magical, I poked and prodded it. "Watch it!" the mirror complained.

"Sorry," I said. "What do you do?"

"Stuff," said the mirror sulkily.

"Mirror, mirror in my hand, who's the fairest in the land?" I joked.

"Certainly not you," said the mirror, and it promptly squirted some kind of foul-smelling black liquid into my face. I threw it down on my bedside table, ignoring its loud cries of protest. My parents gave me random object after random object for my birthday each year. I guess it's due to the fact that my mother's scatterbrained and my dad owns a junk shop.

Belinda gave me twelve punches (the bruise is blooming on my right arm as I write) and a huge bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, maybe trying to make up for when she ate mine all last time on the train. I ate (or rather, tried to eat) twenty of the ones she gave me, and nineteen out of that twenty I had to spit out into the wastebasket. I would really like to talk to this Bertie Bott woman and insist that she make more enjoyable candy. Cassidy gave me a very nice handmade card (I thanked her with relief because I was afraid she would give me a pair of her frilly socks)  
and Neville gave me a magical snapdragon flower. The potted plant is on my table and it lets out a tiny jet of flame every now and then, but not enough to raise serious concern. Neville told me I should water it once a week, which doesn't make sense if you think about it. But I told him it was my best gift yet and he blushed.

"Why are you blushing?" I asked.

"Er, am I?" blushed Neville.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I will never get these people.

I'm getting to the exciting part now. A troll somehow got into Hogwarts at dinner! At first I thought maybe it was another gift from my parents and that they had gone too far but the logical part of my mind squashed that ridiculous idea to smithereens within seconds as everyone scrambled about, pushing and shoving, trying to evacuate The Great Hall. As we were herded into our dorms like cattle, I swear I saw Harry and Ron sneak off. What were they up to? It turns out they were trying to rescue Hermione, who was in the W.C. when all the commotion with the troll was happening, this according to the grapevine. Harry and Ron wrestled with the troll and Harry even managed to get an uppercut in, breaking the troll's jaw. Ron supposedly jinxed the troll so that it repeatedly hit itself in the head, and all the while Hermione had donned a Hogwarts cheerleading uniform (I had no idea we had those), encouraging them via the waving of her pompoms. Okay, so obviously some of that was stretched, but it makes for a good story, you'd have to agree. All in all, it was by far the most interesting birthday I've had yet.

Thoughtfully yours,

Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Today I had a conversation with Hermione. It did not go too well.

"Is that _The Cry of the Augur_?" she pointed at the dog-eared copy splayed on the bit of floor near my four-poster. It was Saturday morning and the other three girls were still sleeping. Both Hermione and I are early risers so we usually wake up within fifteen minutes of each other, but she had never said much to me until now.

"Oh, yeah. Pierce is going to murder me." I snatched up the book and tenderly placed it on my bed. "I've been meaning to turn the bloody book in, but I keep forgetting."

"It's Madam_ Pince,_" said Hermione.

"Whatever," I said.

"Well anyway, I enjoyed that book immensely," sniffed Hermione. "You should care for the books you read a bit better."

"Oh, yeah?" I was staring at her buck teeth. "You should stop being such an eager beaver."

Hermione glared.

"It's just a figure of speech," I told her. "Were you…er, cheerleading, by any chance, last night?"

Hermione looked at me with the air that I was mentally unstable. "Never mind," I said. "Aren't you a Muggle?"

Her jaw stuck out defiantly. "Yes, I am."

"Retract the claws," I said. "I'm pretty much a Muggle too. Haven't you heard the Slytherins teasing me? 'Nuggs' ring a bell?"

"Oh." Hermione looked disconcerted. "I was wondering about that."

"Well, it's because my mum's a Squib and my dad's a Muggle," I explained. "I was going to say, don't you miss technology?"

"Not really," said Hermione. "Magic is loads better."

"Is not!" I retorted. "In fact, I had a dream about my toaster last night. I was chasing it around, begging it to toast my slices of wheat, but it told me I was a traitor and couldn't be bothered."

Hermione gave me the have-you-gone-mad? look again. "Listen, I've got to…get somewhere," she said, edging away from me.

"Are you still irked about me and Neville getting a better grade than you in Sprout's?" I said.

"No!" she suddenly flamed up. "It's only because I had Seamus, who couldn't do anything right! And at least I win more points than you! But you lose them one by one with your impudence!"

"By the way, I'm trying to abolish that stupid points system," I said. "Dumbledore signed my petition, you know. Want to help?"

She gave me one last withering look and stomped away.

At breakfast Ron grinned at me and gave me a thumbs up. I have no idea why.

Bemusedly yours,

Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

I'm supposed to be studying for an Astronomy exam right now, but I'm calling for a five minute break. How does Sinistra expect us to learn fifty constellations plus twenty five asterisms by heart in a day? All right, so she gave us a week, but she should know everyone except Hermione Granger would have procrastinated. Now Belinda, Cassidy, Neville and I are in the library, having a late night cram session. It's nine o' clock already-three hours till doomsday. This is mad! Astronomy's useless in the real world. What kind of an achievement is it if you know how all of the stars are aligned but you don't know how to lace up your boots? (Believe me, Sinistra has trouble at times.) It's silly to have your head up in the clouds when our feet are planted firmly on the earth, for obvious reasons. We shouldn't mess with the heavens, that's what Whoever's-Up-There is trying to tell us. And who's to say the stars are aligned which way or not? A few Greek imbeciles, that's who. What's to stop anyone from reorganizing the night sky? This just proves the futility of it all. And having this class once a week! How is this load of tosh I don't even give a Sickle about supposed to stick in my head for a week? And at midnight! I've always gone to bed at ten, promptish. I have a mind to Owl the student union! (Later I asked around. There wasn't one. Tyranny, I tell you.)

Hermione clamped my mouth shut just when I was going to deliver the above speech to Sinistra last Wednesday. I'm still failing Astronomy though, even without my "impudence." I'm getting O's in most nearly everything else. It's not fair. Life isn't fair, Mum would say. No, it's the people in my life make it that way, I always said back.

Gotta go. Cassidy's reciting star cluster facts in my ear and asking me to check them while Belinda's sucker punching Neville every time he gets a constellation wrong.

Love,

Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

I got an A on my exam. Since you're a Muggle diary, I have to inform you, sadly enough, that it's not what you think. That's the trouble with being Muggle. When you see an A on your paper, your heart instinctively leaps about in joy and it's only when your brain starts kicking in a few seconds later that you realize that in the wizarding world an 'A' means "Acceptable" so you've gotten basically what is a 'C' in the Muggle world. And let me tell you what a letdown that can be. The teachers have lately been grading us by the O.W.L. system (and come off it, we're only first years!), but I reckon it's because they're all so rushed they mix up their systems. Imagine all the paperwork they go through! Hogwarts really is understaffed, in my opinion.

And how in Merlin's name do I know all this stuff about O.W.L.s? Let's just say Mum went a bit crazy when she found out I'd been accepted into Hogwarts. She drilled me everyday about everything magical until not only do I now speak wizarding lingo but can also list all the dragons that exist in alphabetical order and have room to name the twelve uses of their blood. And then some. I think Mum feels a bit inferior about not being able to do magic so she tries to make up for it by filling up the house with magical objects and immersing herself in the wizarding world the only way she can: as a spectator with a pair of well-connected Omnioculars. The way she nags me to tell her everything, and I mean _everything_, makes me feel as if she cares more about living_ through _me than just plain me. Something that, she told me once, is a passive foible that only the timid possess. And my mother certainly isn't timid. I don't know what to think. Merlin's beard, I'm only twelve.

I'll stop here, since I have to run down to the Owlery and get one of those school owls to mail the five-page letter I wrote to Mum.

Exasperatedly yours,

Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

I got detention today.

Quirrell was walking by where everyone was hanging around in little groups in the corridor and the Slytherins were near me and I just happened to be staring at them (remember, my staring problem?). They were talking about mostly stupid stuff and when Quirrell breezed past by they wrinkled up their noses because Quirrell has this awful smell about him (it's supposedly garlic) and then they launched into this tiring conversation of what was under Quirrell's turban. Daphne Greengrass suggested he had an extra set of genitalia on his head and I snorted and that was when Pansy Parkinson noticed me. "What are you looking at, Nuggs?" she said, leering.

"Your pug face," I replied.

Pansy's cronies gasped and choked back their laughter just as she turned red. "As if your face looks any better," she hissed. "Why don't you and your turn-up nose stay out of our business?"

"It's not really just your business if you're talking about what's under Quirrell's turban," I said. "That's more like everybody's business."

"So what, you think you know what's under there?" Pansy snapped.

"Probably his head," I said.

"Why don't you go take a look then?" she dared.

"Er…"

"Coward," Pansy crowed. "I don't see why you're in Gryffindor, the whole lot of you are a bunch of spineless gits."

This is the part where I shouldn't have let Pansy or her cronies get to me but I couldn't help it. Maybe it was my inner Gryffindor coming out to assuage my injured pride or maybe it was something else, but I turned around and headed straight for Quirrell's turban. Luckily, he was only a little ways off and was quenching his thirst at a water fountain. I grabbed the back of his turban and let go with a surprised yelp, faster than you can say "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." Quirrell whipped around, slick with sweat and pale with fear. He grabbed me by shoulders and his nails dug into my skin so that it hurt. "Did you-?" he looked very agitated.

"You have a very bumpy head," I told him, my mouth agape.

Quirrell look like he was about to faint. He raised his wand threateningly and I flinched. "D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-e-t-t-t-t-en-"

"Detention," I finished for him. It wasn't like I could wait around all day for him to finish his stupid one-word sentence.

"S-s-straight after d-d-d-dinner," he stammered. "C-come into my o-o-o-ffice."

"Okay," I said. The bell rang and I headed to my next class, ignoring the catcalls from Pansy and her cronies. Stupid inner Gryffindor. I liked it better when it stayed quietly curled up somewhere in my guts. My hands were shaking, though-it wasn't just that Quirrell's head was bumpy-I swear I felt the contours of a face-a nose, a mouth, cheekbones…

I told Neville at the dinner table and he's in awe of me. "I can't believe you did that!" he said, shaking his head. "What did Belinda and Cassidy say?"

"I haven't gotten a chance to tell them yet," I said, digging into my meat pie.

I better go. It's already after dinner and I came up here for a quick update as well as to say that there is nothing wrong with having a turn-up nose. It's better than having, say, a _hooked _nose. (My apologies, Professor Snape.)

Back. Detention was okay. I had to fish for Giant Grubs using Plimpies with Hagrid and the Weasley twins. It was dark, and we were all crowded in this little boat in the middle of the lake.

"What's your name?" asked one of the twins (I think it was George). They look so identical it's hard to tell who's who, but I think Fred's the one with a little black speck of a mole between his eyes.

"Mona," I said. "And your names are Fred and George."

"See, I knew we were famous," said Fred (I think it was), grinning at George. "What're you here for?"

"Trying to pull off Quirrell's turban," I said quite truthfully.

The twins had a good chuckle at that. "Stupid and bold," they chimed in together. "Done like a true Gryffindor!"

"Although no offense, you don't look like much like a troublemaker," added Fred(?).

"What are you two in for?" I asked.

They grinned at each other. "Stuffing a Dungbomb down Flint's pants," they chorused together.

"Oy yeh three, quit talkin'!" reproached Hagrid. "Tha's not what detention's fer. I'll need more grubs than this if I got any shot at feedin' 'em all tonight…"

"Feeding what all?" all three of us asked.

"It ain' any o' yer business," muttered Hagrid, reeling in another gleaming white grub. He stuffed it into the boat's cache, where or a dozen or so more gleamed in the moonlight. "I don' mean to be stereotypin' or nothin', Mona, but I'm surprised yeh haven' screamed or summat yet."

"I imagine they're huge grains of rice," I confessed. "So they look more delectable than disgusting."

The twins and Hagrid stared at me.

"It's funny," I said, changing the subject. "How we're fishing for worms with fish, instead of the other way around?"

"Tha's the thing with magic, it flips things upside down," said Hagrid wisely.

Altogether we reeled in thirty grubs (Hagrid: 18, me: 6, Fred: 4, George: 2). George screamed when one tried to worm its way into his robes (pun not intended). From that point onward, only Hagrid and I handled the worms into the cache. By eleven we were hopping out of the boat and bading Hagrid good night.

"That was…interesting," said George.

"Better than babysitting Grindylows for mermaids," said Fred darkly. "Remember that?"

"We'll be back in Hagrid's freakishly large and hairy arms by tomorrow, I expect," George predicted. "What about you? Is your heart set on becoming a perpetual troublemaker? Trying to get into the same league as us?"

"Because we can teach you a thing or two," Fred put in. We reached the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asked.

"I could never say the word," grumbled Fred.

"D'ya mind changing it?" asked George.

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," I said. The Fat Lady swung open.

"You're an all right girl, Mona," said Fred, following me in. "I think between the two of us we'll be able to train you well."

"No, thank you," I said. "Detention was okay, but I don't want it to become a daily thing. Besides, my bluntness will blow your cover."

"What bluntness?" the twins asked.

"Well, you," and I indicated Fred, "have a mole between your eyes which I kept staring at all night just to make sure I knew who was who and you," I pointed at George, "seem to me a bit of a wimp."

Fred touched his face self-consciously and George bellowed "OY!" I walked up the stairs to the girls' dorm and called down good night.

Sleepily yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

I recounted what happened yesterday to my friends during break.

"You got guts," Belinda said, shaking her head. "You were even scouted by the twins!"

"They were trying to lure me to the Dark Side, you mean," I said.

"I can't believe you did that," whispered Cassidy, eyes widening.

"You sound just like Neville," I said, annoyed. Did I really look like a goody two-shoes to everyone? I really should toughen up my image. "It's weird, though," I said, frowning.

"What?" Belinda inquired.

"I dunno," I said. "It kind of felt like Quirrell was two-faced. I mean that literally."

"That's a bit grotesque," Belinda said. "But I couldn't blame him for wearing that turban, then."

That was when Neville decided to join us. He was wearing a scarf that covered half his face. We prodded him to show us what he was hiding and it turns out he was experimenting with puberty potions. He had a huge fuzzy brown moustache with the ends trailing down to his shoulders.

"I didn't mean to!" wailed Neville. It seems Neville had to get himself into a magical fix at least five times a day.

"You never mean to," I said. "Just mosey on down to the hospital wing."

"I can't!" wailed Neville again. "Then everyone'll know."

"He's right," said Belinda. "Once you step foot into Madam Pomfrey's office, everyone seems to know what happened, why, and how. Not to mention the fact that messing around with puberty potions is at the top of the Most Embarrassing Things You Can Do as a First Year List."

"Is it really?" I said. "I tried a puberty potion before." I know, Nuggs. You feel betrayed. But I didn't really want to disclose this fact to anyone…curse my bluntness.

"Really? What for?" said Belinda curiously.

"Pimples," I said frankly.

Everyone stared.

"Of all the things," Belinda said, shaking her head again.

"I dunno, they looked cool to me," I insisted. "I tried the potion at home, but my grandmother put me right."

"You've made me feel a bit better," Neville said behind the scarf. "I think I'll go down to the hospital wing now, thanks."

Note to self: never try to cheer anyone else up again.

Embarrassedly yours,  
Mona


	5. In Which Nuggs Gets Several Mouthfuls

Dear Nuggs,

Lavender broke my mirror. It was hilarious, actually. I was doing some Transfiguration homework in the common room when I heard a shatter and a scream and she came charging down the stairs with bits of glass stuck in her hair. Everyone was laughing, including me, since she looked a bit deranged.

"What's wrong with your bloody mirror?" she shrieked at me.

"I think it's just for laughs," I told her. "Why? Have you gotten to using my things without permission?"

"I wanted to see how my new hairstyle looked on me," she snarled. "And the thing told me I was ghastly and broke into a million little pieces."

"Has it shattered for good, then?" I asked, intrigued.

"No, it's put itself back together!" glowered Lavender. "Well?"

"Well, what?" I said.

"It almost killed me!" wailed Lavender.

"I think you're overstating the matter," I told her. "It's just a toy, the shards should have bounced off of you harmlessly." I knew this because I've poked and prodded it in every way that I could on nights I couldn't sleep, and it's retaliated in twenty-three different but equally annoying ways. Still, none had proved fatal, not even slightly detrimental. "Oh, and thanks for finding the twenty-fourth annoying thing the mirror can do."

Lavender gave me a withering look and flounced away.

After that the Weasley twins came up to me and tried to haggle for my mirror. "Sounds like it's one of a kind," said Fred.

I would have, but it was a gift from my parents. I told them no.

"You're no fun," they said, stomping off.

It seems everyone in Gryffindor has walked angrily away from me at one point or another.

Quizzically yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

I've got a huge bruise near (but not on) my eye from playing Quidditch. Flying lessons have gotten to be a bit brutal lately, maybe because Millicent Bulstrode keeps ending up in my game and being Beater, and all I did was correct her atrocious grammar one, possibly four times. We do broom races (Harry always wins those and Draco sulks, which is silly anyhow because of course Harry would be loads better than all of us, being on the Quidditch team and all) and we play modern versions of old games. Like Stichstock, which was the first game we did, only instead of an inflated dragon bladder we used a balloon. Quite a few people, including me, got all cut up because of that blasted game so Hooch made us all wear these ridiculous-looking body suits, but they helped. Everyone had to take a turn being the balloon-guardian and Neville was the worst at it; each game with him as guardian lasted about five seconds tops. Hermione was the best at being guardian, she got so aggressive with her defense spells no one could get near enough to puncture the balloon, not even Harry, and Hooch sent her off the field for hexing Ron too heavily. I think they fancy each other, with the immature way they go about it. Next was Creaothceann, which we played in October, but instead of charmed boulders raining down on us, Hooch used the safe alternative of charmed tennis balls. We did look like stupid with cauldrons strapped to our heads but it was fun nonetheless. I won about four times and even Neville won once (but only because I let him nick some of the tennis balls I caught). Hooch awards winners candy or House points, so everyone turns into competing machines, even Cassidy who won't be on my team lest her fellow Slytherins do her in.

Now we're playing Quidditch. I like being Chaser best. It's about the only thing I'm good at, although I suppose I'm okay at Seeker. Finding a little golden ball isn't too difficult and I still don't see how Harry being Seeker is a big deal. Even a flobberworm could do it.

I went to the hospital wing after getting hit (much to the chagrin of my fellow teammates since that meant Neville would have to take my place as Chaser-we had enlisted him as a reserve, aka benchwarmer). Pomfrey put this foul yellow paste on my injury and I scrunched up my nose and told her it smelled as bad as her feet. She deducted ten points for my rudeness and I didn't even know nurses had the authority to do that. Oh well. It's not like it mattered to me. I apologized for telling the truth and got another point deducted because that's exactly what I said, "I apologize for telling the truth." I've got to learn, said Mum in her latest letter to me, and I'm trying but I can't help it. Mum thinks I must've swallowed a bottle of Grandmum's  
Veritaserum when I was a babe. Except for the fact that the boys keep flying under the girls to look at our knickers, or really just Daphne Greengrass's, because she hasn't the sense to wear leggings like the rest of us, flying lessons aren't too bad. In fact, they're fun and a nice break for my infamous mouth, since it's really all action and no talk and so people happen to like me a lot more on the field than off of it.

Yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Today I annoyed the bloody hell out of everyone. I asked the Fat Lady how she got in there, was she ever real? How was it possible that she was able to move from painting to painting? Could she lose a few pounds even though she was painted fat? What spells were at work there? And there? She got quite agitated and told me to ask McGonagall. I went up to her office and asked her, exactly how did magic work? When was magic first utilized? Where did it come from? Were they a different sort of molecules, ones that we could manipulate? How would a wand become a vehicle for that, then? What converts it into the physical transformations we see? How did a few Latin words trigger such miracles? She told me I was giving her a headache, she had papers to grade and to please leave. On my way to my dorm I saw Nearly Headless Nick and asked him if he were made out of ectoplasm. What was the process of turning into a ghost like? How did one make a choice between being a ghost or moving on? Was there a voice in his head, asking him? Did he see a light at the end of the tunnel when he bit the dust? Nick sidestepped me and mumbled something about having to use the bathroom which was a rather stupid excuse since ghosts don't have bodily functions. Then I went on into my dorm and asked Hermione everything I asked the other three. She listened thoughtfully and gave me a few suggestions but nothing definite. "That's all very fascinating," she said thoughtfully. "The thing is, nearly all of it's in the field of speculation, I've read a few books and only some stuff is solid. But it's very fascinating. There really should be a class for that."

"It could be called 'Theory of Magic'," I said.

Hermione's eyes lit up and she clapped her hands. "I know! Let's petition for a class like that!" She got up some materials and started drawing up a petition, just like that. She signed it and then I signed it and then we blackmailed Lavender and Parvati and Neville into signing it and she blackmailed Harry and Ron and I blackmailed Belinda and Cassidy. Okay, I didn't really blackmail Belinda, because she was all for it already, but same thing, really. Hermione told me she was going to ask some of the teachers for signatures too and will give me an update later on her progress. Although I'm a bit annoyed at her for getting carried away with what was after all my idea, I'm also glad because I don't have to go around asking strangers to sign a piece of paper. I would probably just offend them and Hermione's more clever at twisting people around to her side anyway. Besides, I've learned with my first petition that I am not a petition-type person. So it's really better off that Hermione's doing it. And to think, it all started with me acting like a twat.

Amusedly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Writing in History of Magic again. Thank goodness for that Quick-Quotes Quill of Belinda's. Hermione's giving me dirty looks and everyone else has been begging me to lend it to them but I tell them it's not mine, it's a Ravenclaw's and that's when they give up. So much for interhouse unity.

Lately Neville and Cassidy have been suffering at the hands of the Slytherins. Belinda and I feel bad but there's really nothing we can do, since it always seems to happen when we're not around. I guess it'll stop when Neville and Cassidy get some guts. I'd lend them mine but that inner Gryffindor seems to have hidden itself somewhere since its last escapade with Quirrell's turban. I picture it as a lion, curling up in my stomach or other as if my internal organs were some sort of den to it. I described this metaphor in great detail to my friends. Belinda laughed, Cassidy gave me a look that said she feared for my sanity and Neville told me I should be a poet.

Bell's rung, so I'll stop for now.

-M.

--

Dear Nuggs,

First Quidditch match was today. At breakfast everyone was giving Harry all sorts of advice. I didn't say anything, of course. Not just because of my passive philosophy but also because the breakfast sausages had me transfixed. I dunno, they looked a bit like penises to me. So I was just staring at them and thinking of how Hogwarts doesn't have a sex ed class so how am I supposed to know anything at all about penises other than the fact that they look peculiar, like an alien species or other. In the end I just sipped some pumpkin juice before heading down to the pitch with Neville. Hagrid joined us. The game was exciting, I'll admit, but I imagine anything with Harry involved will always be exciting. The Slytherins cheated (of course) and we were awarded a penalty. Then Harry nearly fell to his death due to the strange behavior of his broom (which was brand new I might add, not like the first one I ever used upon attending Hogwarts and which was rather odd because I've seen Harry using a rickety old school broom like the rest of us during Flying lessons but I suppose that was to make it fair, else Harry would have won every game). Neville tried to cry on my shoulder but I jerked my nice dry pansy-free body part away from him and he cried into Hagrid's arm instead. Harry managed to right himself and cough up the Snitch (literally). We Gryffindors won, 170-60. Usually I take no interest in sports but once again magic has flipped things upside down. Also, the Slytherins are so PO'd Cassidy doesn't dare talk to me or Neville. Now that's competitive for you.

Yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Detention again. That's three times already, if you haven't kept count. I was in Potions class, staring at Snape's greasy black hair and wondering whether I leave him a bottle of shampoo on his desk as a sort of anonymous Christmas gift when all of a sudden his hooked nose was right in my face asking very dryly if I could answer his question already because his patience was starting to wear thin.

I blinked. "Sorry, could you repeat it?" I said.

"And what, pray tell, could you have possibly been doing that takes precedence over paying attention to my instruction?" Snape asked silkily.

"Your hair, sir," I said without thinking, "I was thinking that you ought to wash it."

Everyone erupted into peals of laughter. Gryffindors that is. Slytherins, ever loyal, stifled theirs. Snape turned deathly white, and he was already white to begin with, mind you, and for the first time in my life chills ran down my spine as I sat there forcing myself to stare into those merciless black eyes. I had never crossed Snape before, but I'm guessing it had something to do with the fact that I sat in the back of the classroom, not to mention the fact that I avoid speaking to Snape at all costs. Even I'm not that much of a dunderhead, whatever Snape says. But I was feeling a lot like one now: a complete mong. If I thought he didn't mind me as a student then, I'm certain he would despise me now, after what I had just said aloud for him and the entire class to hear.

"Detention, Miss Li," he odiously said. "After dinner."

Why must it always be after dinner? I clamped my mouth shut to stop the question from spilling out and for once managed to silence myself. "Sorry, sir," I mumbled instead.

So. Almost dinnertime now. By the time I come back I'll have done my detention already, so I'll write about that. And even after that ordeal I still don't hate Snape. I see him as a very bitter man with a lot of pride, so it must have hurt for me to have said that. I forgive him.

Back. Detention is getting worse and worse, in my opinion. Saw the Weasley twins again. They greeted me like I was an old friend. "Knew you were a rebel," said a beaming Fred.

"A quiet one, but a rebel nevertheless," added George. "What're you in for?"

"Talking back to Snape," I said guiltily. "I told him I thought he should wash his hair."

The twins roared with laughter at that. When it died down I thought to ask what they had gotten in trouble for. "Charming snowballs to bounce off the back of Quirrell's turban," they chorused (it must be a twin thing, the way they talk at the same time).

"You inspired us, you see," added Fred with a snicker.

"Shut your traps," snarled Filch. "This is detention, not a social call." He had been leading us up a dark, dank corridor (Hogwarts has a lot of those), Mrs. Norris in tow. I still wonder about that "Mrs." What in Merlin's name could she be married to? Unfortunately I voiced my thoughts aloud and above the twins' chuckles I heard Filch saying that I would be dealt with soon enough. He opened a door and led us into what seemed to be his quarters. There were pictures of cats on the walls and a lot of mismatched furniture. Filch lived like an old lady, that was certain. The first time he gave me detention he took me to his office instead and made me clean it, top to bottom, so I never knew.

Turns out we had to pamper Mrs. Norris as our punishment. We gave her a bath, which she didn't like, so we were shred to bits at the end of that painful duration. Fred dried her and brushed her, George filed her claws and serenaded her with a Celestina Warbeck song, and I had to cook her a fancy gourmet meal using _The Cat's Meow: A Book of Cat Food Recipes_ and spoon-feed it to her. Then we were all forced to don magical costumes that made us look like actual rats to Mrs. Norris. She chased after me relentlessly, hissing and spitting, and only at the end of it all when I had collapsed on the floor out of near exhaustion did she bite me in the ankle and suddenly realize I was actually human. Then she turned to the twins, who were hiding in the closet (the gits wouldn't let me in with them, which was why I was attacked first). Fred and George finally got their comeuppance and were chased and bitten too.

So, by the time Filch returned, the twins and I were not in the best of moods. A disgustingly chipper Filch sent us off. He had Mrs. Norris in his arms and took her paw and made her wave at us goodbye, making little cooing baby noises as we limped away muttering curses under our breath. This time we parted ways without a single word, too tired and cross to say good night.

Let's just say that I am extremely glad the holidays are near.

Grouchily yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

It's Christmas Eve and I'm at home. My cousin Leo's snoring in the next room. I should smother him with a pillow, or something. He could give Sally-Anne a run for her money. Uncle Bao arrived this morning with his new wife and 1454363452312 kids. They're all stepsiblings or half-siblings to each other, and I bet even Uncle wouldn't know anymore, he's been remarried so many times. Leo is the only son of his first wife, so he's basically the only one I grew up with (he's eighteen, and everyone else is ten and under). The rest kind of blur together, I'll be honest. (Yes, my Uncle Bao is a man-whore.) He's Mum's younger brother, and he always likes reminding her that while she couldn't do magic, he could, and had always been favored because of it. He finds me amusing like Belinda and I only put up with him because he bribes me to do the simplest things like fetch the newspaper for him or make him tea with brandy because he's so bloody lazy and drunk and always misplacing his wand all the time, but I'm paid well for it; usually by the end of his visit I have a handful of Galleons weighing down my pockets. The house is noisy and overcrowded and Mum's gone off the deep end. I wish I were back at Hogwarts.

Wishfully yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

New Year's past and it's 1992. My resolution was to keep my mouth in check a bit better. I'm back at Hogwarts and for once I am glad. But I'll probably start missing Mum and Dad again come February. Christmas was okay. I got a lot of weird, random things from everyone. The best, though, was Grandmum's gift to me. She added the following magical features to you:

-you are now filled with endless pages (does the thought of eternal life scare you?)  
-no one but me can open you  
-you are now waterproof, fireproof, stain proof, and lots of other -proofs that will prevent you from being harmed or dirtied in any way  
-every time I begin a new entry, you automatically insert the date  
-you have a little hidden cache where I can store my quill and ink bottle

Hermione got back to me on the petition thing and it turns out she had bullied three quarters of the school into signing it (so that'll be everyone except Slytherin, since they don't really count Cassidy), meaning that it was a majority and Dumbledore approved it. But, as Hermione had complained to me earlier, it would take about ten years for the class to actually exist. Bloody red tape.

-M.

--

Dear Nuggs,

I got to visit the Ravenclaw House today. Belinda insisted we come with her. It's way up in the castle and instead of having passwords you get these mind-boggling questions. Thank goodness the Sorting Hat thought I was more brave than more clever, else I would have been locked out of my own House a good deal of the time. "When a tree falls in a lonely forest, and no animal is near by to hear it, does it make a sound?" the eagle-shaped knocker asked.

"To be is to be perceived," proclaimed Belinda.

"Reasonable enough," said the eagle. The door swung open.

We were all stupefied as to how Belinda could get through that blasted door day after day and she said it was easy, really, it's just a matter of logic and saying the answer in mumbo jumbo. Their common room, I have to admit, is much nicer than ours, in a grand old way. Gryffindor's common room is more comfy and reassuring though. I got to meet some fellow students who were Ravenclaws (Belinda introduced us). There's Mandy Brocklehurst, who seemed nice enough, and also Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein, who Belinda described as the trio of Ravenclaw. "They go everywhere together, even the bathroom," she added.

"Shut your trap, we do not," groused Michael.

"We only go everywhere together because Terry here can't answer those philosophical questions you get from the eagle knocker," said Anthony. "They're a bit too hard on his small little brain."

"Shut your trap, no they're not," said Terry, grinning as he swung at Anthony, who ducked, laughing.

"They're an odd lot," said Belinda cheerfully.

We did our Transfiguration and History of Magic homework. It was easy enough, although Neville struggled with Transfiguration and Cassidy had trouble with History of Magic. Belinda and I ended up arguing over the goblin uprising of 1612 which resulted in Cassidy's essay looking like a bit of an explosion, with cross-outs and inkblots everywhere. By the time we got back to our respective dorms Cassidy wouldn't speak to any of us. Not that she did much in the first place.

Yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Quidditch match today. Harry caught the Snitch right quick, before Snape could get in a few more tries at being a biased git. I don't mind him as much as other Gryffindors do, but come off it-he gave Hufflepuff a penalty for no bloody reason! Oh dear, I'm starting to sound like a rabid Quidditch fanatic. "Bloody hell, Potter can Seek," said Belinda as we made our way back to the castle. "But we Ravenclaws are pretty good, particularly our Keeper, I think, so you're still no match for us."

"If Harry catches the Snitch as fast as that again, you can eat your words," I said. Neville wasn't with us. He had gotten into a tussle with a Slytherin or two and was at the hospital wing. Don't really remember how he was injured, though-I merely put my feet up and continued watching the game.

"Can we go to your dorm?" asked Belinda eagerly, once we were in the castle. "I've showed you mine."

I didn't see why not, so I said okay. "Don't expect me to introduce you to anyone, though," I added. When I led them to the Fat Lady she looked cross. "Students from other Houses," she clucked. "Now I'll have to change the password."

"She could whisper it to you," suggested Belinda. "Cassidy and I'll stand back and plug in our ears."

"Oh, all right," said the Fat Lady. She bent down and cupped her ear with one hand. "Password?"

"Scoliosis," I whispered back, feeling silly. We went in.

"Nice!" said Belinda, looking around. She plopped down in one of our squashy armchairs and Cassidy did the same, except a bit more delicately. "We'll need to make friends with a Hufflepuff, if we want to see all the Houses," noted Belinda. "When can we book an appointment to take a look inside Slytherin, eh, Cassidy?"

Cassidy turned white. "I-I don't think…" she stammered. I swear she was Quirrell's daughter or something, the way she stuttered so.

"Come on, what's it going to hurt?" coaxed Belinda.

"Me," Cassidy mumbled. She changed the subject. "I have a question about Flitwick's assignment," she said timidly. That got Belinda started, and the subject of visiting Slytherin's House was forgotten. By Belinda, anyway. She went around the room introducing herself and Cassidy. She's outgoing to the point that it might come off as obnoxious, so I don't know how well my fellow Gryffindors took to her.

Cheers to interHouse unity?

-M.

--

Dear Nuggs,

I got around to writing a poem with the lion in it. It's stupid, but oh well. You won't judge me, will you Nuggs?

Writing Poetry: Attempt #1

_Gryffindor is the home of the brave  
Am I brave?  
A Slytherin smirk and I was off  
Quirrell's turban conceals another face  
Slippery, sliding moonlit grubs.  
Am I brave?  
The Sorting Hat says,  
That's what they all think.  
The red-haired twins say,  
A quiet one, but a rebel nevertheless.  
Gryffindor houses The Boy Who Lived  
But am I brave?  
The lion curls up in a chamber in my heart  
It hibernates most days  
Has it become a habit or is it just a phase?  
When need arises will it claw itself out  
And spring into my throat, roaring  
To take action once again?  
Gryffindor has got me thinking  
Am I really and truly brave?_

I thought about making it rhyme, but it's too forced and even cornier, so I scrapped that and will stick to free verse.

Poetically yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

History of Magic. Dull as always. Will write poem instead of listening to Binns' sleep-inducing voice.

Writing Poetry: Attempt #2

_I look in the mirror  
Flat-chested  
Puberty is a slow curse  
I'm older but Belinda's are bigger  
Cho's late for class  
Bouncing bosom  
Puberty is a slow curse  
But I haven't a spot like Belinda's  
Neville blushes at me  
Round-faced pansy  
Puberty is a slow curse  
No hormones, no love  
That time of month hasn't come  
And Belinda's already started hers  
Puberty is a slow curse  
No sanitary napkins for me  
The phoenixes and the billywigs  
I know, I know  
But still…  
Puberty is a slow curse.  
_

I've been passing notes with Neville, so I'll attach them here:

Hey Mona,  
Are you bored?

_Dear Neville,  
Obviously._

I dare you to raise your hand and tell him he's boring.

_All right. Done._

I can't believe you did that! Binns didn't even say anything. Everyone's staring at you right now. You are so cool.

_First off, I can't believe you said "cool." Secondly, it wasn't that hard. You can't have expected that Binns would have actually done something. He hasn't enough willpower_.

I feel a bit bad for him now. He looked a little disoreentatted there.

_Neville, you prat, you were the one who dared me to do it. And he went back to droning on and on like it was nothing. You're just a sap. And it's D-I-S-O-R-I-E-N-T-A-T-E-D._

Stop calling me names. I'm worth the same as you.

_Since when was Harry was your guru? Git._

I'm passing notes with Hermione instead so there and when you look up at me after you're done reading this I'm going to stick my tung out at you.

_Dear Neville,  
T-o-n-g-u-e._

Bell's rung. You know the drill.

Love,  
Mona


	6. An Excess of Mona

Dear Nuggs,

We're playing Quodpot in Flying now. It's the wizarding American pastime. Quodpot's a lot like basketball, come to think of it. I don't see how Americans prefer this over Quidditch but I guess they really love their explosions. Draco's gloating because Potter can't play with us anymore; the new rule is that all Quidditch players can't take Flying lessons since they get their chance at winning House points by being on the team. Neville's hands are black from getting the exploded Quod again and again and I'm afraid that it may be a permanent fixture. Got to go. Hooch caught me writing in you behind the stands.

Yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Ron was my partner in Potions today. We had to make an Enlargement Potion, which required a sliver of blowfish skin.

"Blowfish skin? Is Snape trying to kill us?" Ron whispered to me.

"Professor, Ron wants to know if you're trying to kill us," I said without looking up from the jar of giant toe jam I was trying to open. Yes, giant toe jam. I don't see how anyone can expect to do anything with potions, they're made up of the most foul things that it's a wonder anybody has the nerve to drink any of them.

Snape told us to stop behaving like dunderheads, the blowfish was specially prepared although if he had it his way we would all die of asphyxia. We got a point off for our cheek and I got the getting-a-bit-repetitive synchronized Gryffindor glare. I suppose Snape still has that hair-needs-washing comment against me.

"What's wrong with you," muttered Ron, gingerly (no pun intended) slicing up the skin.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"You're a bit of a blabbermouth in case you haven't noticed," Ron said. "Have a little bit of tact, that's what you should do."

"Says the hypocrite," muttered Hermione, her potion already the perfect shade of gray. Next to her Neville sat back, twiddling his thumbs. He jumped up and pretended to look busy whenever Snape swept by.

Ron opened his mouth, probably to say some ineffective comeback, when Draco said loudly, "Seems to me that you two'll need this potion-Nuggs for your eyes and Weasley for your wallet. And your brains. And possibly whatever you got down there, if you know what I mean." Cue synchronized Slytherin guffawing. It's just as bad as the Gryffindor glare, let me tell you. "My eyes aren't that small!" I hotly replied at the same time as Ron lunged at him, knocking over the cauldron and spilling its contents on my feet, which started swelling to enormous proportions.

"Yeah, and I s'pose you're going to say your feet aren't that small either?" sniggered Draco. Cue more synchronized Slytherin guffawing.

I am at the hospital wing right now and Ron, feeling guilty, has decided to visit me and bring this awkward silence upon us. I am writing and he is twiddling his thumbs. He asked me if I was doing homework and I said no, I was writing in my diary and he said anything about me and I said no not really and he said what do you mean by that and I changed the subject and asked him what was Harry like and he said he's my best mate and I said I imagine you feel overshadowed by his identity at times and he said come again and I said you must feel bad about being the little nobody at Harry's side and he said shut it he didn't feel that sorry for me he could leave right now and I said go ahead and he said fine! And slammed the door shut behind him.

Mum's right. Psychobabble does not make for good small talk.

-M.

--

Dear Nuggs,

Today I had my first interaction with The Boy Who Lived. It did not go too well.

Since Ron ruined our Enlargement Potion by spilling it all over my feet and the floor, we had to make another one in addition to the Nostalgia Brew everyone else was making. Blasted Snape. So when we finished making the potion, bad things started happening. Somehow Neville tripped on his way back to his cauldron and just as he was landing on the floor, legs flailing, Neville grabbed the handle of Harry's cauldron, tipping its contents over (it soaked him through and he was lost in reminiscence for days). Ron had just filled a flask of the Enlargement Potion and was about to stopper it when Neville's flailing legs knocked the flask out of Ron's hands, where it hit Harry in the face. The potion dripped from his chin and suddenly his head was ballooning. (This all happened very quickly, mind you.) Right when the potion hit Harry's face and it started, well, _enlarging,_ Harry was angrily shouting, "Neville! That was the best potion I ever made!"

"No need to get a swollen head," I blurted out. Then I clapped a hand over my mouth in horror. I mean, I had just said a horrible but not-too-unusual-for-me pun to_ the _Harry Potter! Cue both synchronized Slytherin guffawing and Gryffindor glaring. It was atrocious I tell you. But on the bright side, Snape likes me again.

Ashamedly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

There have been reports of Slytherin girls finding tarantulas in their hair and tacks in their shoes. Such unpleasant things have been happening for over a week now. I feel terrible for Cassidy. Suspects include the twins and Peeves. I tried to get on the case. I asked Parkinson and Greengrass and the other girls questions and all I got was name-calling and tomato-spattered houndstooth robes. After a quick bath and robes change with cursing under my breath added up in it, I met up with Professor Snape, who called me a dunderhead and told me to get out of his office (just when I thought he liked me again). After nursing my injured pride with more cursing under my breath, I went for the twins, who were so insulted that I thought they were the culprits they said they were taking back every twinneriffic thing they had ever said to me, and marched off arm-in-arm. Peeves was a no-go. He locked me in a broom cupboard and I escaped out the window. Good thing it was on the first floor. It's safe to say I'm not making any headway on the case.

Dishearteningly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Found the culprit! I was slumped in an armchair by the fireplace, pretending to smoke my toy pipe and getting weird looks from my fellow Gryffindors while pondering who could it be when I found Cassidy staring back at me from the armchair opposite of me. I asked her how she'd get in and she said Neville and Mona, we need to talk. I said what and she said I'll tell you who's the culprit if you stop looking into it and I said okay sure and she said it's me and I said Merlin's gonads!

She said you can't tell anyone and I said sure but I'm just surprised because I always thought you were a pansy and didn't know you had it in you and she sniffed and said I'm in Slytherin for a reason and I said how long are you going to keep this up and she said until they stop torturing me and I said Merlin's toenails that'll be forever and she said to stop making exclamations involving famous old wizards and their body parts it was bumming her out.

All right so I'm not a petition-maker or a detective but you love me anyway, don't you Nuggs?

-M.

Writing Poetry: Attempt #3

_Frilly socks and big glasses  
You look like you're seven  
You purse your lips at every sound  
Letting Belinda push you around  
Quiet as a mouse in Slytherin House  
I thought you'd be in Ravenclaw  
But it turns out you're not  
Surprise, surprise  
You're behind the trickery  
You put on a front I guess  
Well you certainly fooled me  
And you don't like my honesty  
And you don't like Belinda  
And you don't like Neville the Gryffindor  
Masochist._

(I said I wouldn't do rhyming but it just happened so it's not like I jammed it hard in there. So accidental-seems-to-fit rhyming is fine by me.)

--

Dear Nuggs,

Today we got Flitwick to do the Bubblehead Charm on Neville, Cassidy, Belinda, and me so that we could poke around the lake. Neville can't swim very well and if it weren't for magic he'd have drowned six times already. Both Neville and Cassidy ran out when the giant squid came. Belinda petted it while I went deeper underwater. Saw a merman. He was ugly. He laughed at me. It seems like he was taking his grindylow for a swim. The dratted thing tried to bite me. I gave the pair the two-fingered salute and swam away.

-M.

--

Dear Nuggs,

It's the Easter holidays and I'm at home. I have loads of homework so I wanted to stay at Hogwarts but Mum demanded that I come back so here I am. Since we live in a Muggle area it'll be harder to get the resources I need. Curse her. But it's nice to be back and I'm wearing Muggle clothes, which I've missed. Robes just aren't the same as a comfy pair of jeans and a well worn shirt. They're too loose and flowy and oddly unisex. Got to go. Dinner and a three-hour description of Hogwarts for two enraptured non-magic adults is awaiting me. Bleh.

-M.

Dear Nuggs,

Mum says she's glad I've been writing in my diary. I pretend to her that I hate it immensely because I don't want her to think that whatever she wants me to do I'll enjoy it. Talked to my neighbor Robert today. We used to go to Muggle primary school together. He asked what's boarding school like and I said it was magical, I was just enchanted-no bewitched with the place, it was that charming. And I was giggling like mad all the while I said it and he looked at me odd and I think I've weirded him off for good but he was a tattletale and a sneak anyway.

Yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Back at Hogwarts. Managed to do all of my homework but I can't say if my Potions essay is up to par. McGonagall is driving everyone up the wall since she assigns the most homework out of them all. I think she's gone mad with power. By the way, I'm getting detention tomorrow for saying that aloud to her. No time to write, too much work.

Busily yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Had to mop up the Great Hall without magic, it was okay. When I went to put the mop back in the cupboard I caught two prefects snogging in there, they were gaping at me like fish. "As you were," I said before shutting the door. Teenage hormones. Ghastly things. Speaking of which, I saw Cho today. She was with a boyfriend. She changes them like she changes clothes. I remember once when I was forced to sleep over at her house and she kept on talking about boys, boys, and boys and I told her to shut it, the only interesting thing about boys is how their penises look like an alien species and she said gross Mona I don't think you're a real person real girls would talk about boys and makeup I'm starting to think you're a boggart and you just turn into a little Chinese girl who talks like a thirty-five year old woman because my greatest fear is ending up like my Mum and I pulled out my toy wand and said say that again you sod and she said you still carry your toy wand around with you that just shows how childish you are and besides it doesn't do anything and I said oh right and punched her hard in the mouth and her loose baby tooth fell out and cut into my knuckle so by the time her parents found us we were both crying and bleeding and she's called me Boggart ever since. Well, in private, that is.

Disgustedly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

I missed supper due to a lecture from McGonagall on the importance of discretion. She gave me sandwiches and pumpkin juice but I didn't want her breathing down my neck as I ate so I hurried away after a morsel. By the time I reached the library where I was supposed to meet my friends so we could study for the Potions quiz, my stomach was growling-or was it my inner Gryffindor?

"Your stomach's rumbling," remarked Belinda.

"I'm hungry," I said.

"You're famished and I could use a snack," she said, getting up. "Let's go down to the kitchens."

Cassidy and Neville looked at each other nervously. "Er, can we do that?" asked Neville doubtfully.

"Who cares?" Belinda said impatiently. "Let's go."

"But what about that quiz? It's tomorrow, and there's loads we still need to study!" said Neville anxiously.

"The library's closing in fifteen minutes," Cassidy added.

"Come off it, the quiz won't be too difficult for the likes of us," scoffed Belinda.

Neville and Cassidy decided to stay in the library and study like the pansies they were. I followed Belinda. When we got to a painting of a fruit bowl, Belinda tickled the pear. "How'd you know about the kitchens entrance?" I asked as the painting swung open.

"When you've got a lot of siblings you get to know these things," she answered as we stepped through. The whole place is manned by house-elves and they're very eager to obey. I got twice as much food as I asked for and it was all delicious. I told them so and they beamed so much I thought maybe their mouths were permanently stuck that way. The bad thing was that when I bent over to pick up my napkin, my dragon hide gloves fell out of my pocket and all the house-elves started squeaking "RED ALERT! RED ALERT! TAKE COVER!" and throwing themselves into cupboards and under tables and the like. About several hundred tennis ball eyes glared at me from various parts of the kitchen in which the house-elves had hidden themselves.

"What?" I said.

"You honestly don't know?" asked Belinda, who had nonchalantly picked up my gloves and stuffed them back into my pocket. "Elves are set free by articles of clothing. Sorry, she didn't mean to do it," she called out to those glaring tennis ball eyes.

One house-elf emerged from the freezer and slowly inched towards us. "The gloves are in the pocket, miss?" it asked.

"Erm, yeah," I said.

"And will they stay in the pocket, miss?"

"Sure, why not?" I shot a confused look at Belinda, who shrugged and grinned.

"All clear, elves!" he squeaked. One by one, they reluctantly stepped out of their hiding places. "It is best if you leave now, misses," said another house-elf, thrusting puddings and cakes into our hands. "We give you food. You must leave now, misses!"

Suffice to say we left. Belinda all the while couldn't believe I didn't know about that clothes phobias all house-elves seem to possess. "I guess Mum forgot to mention that bit of wizarding culture to me," I said.

"All right then, Wizarding Culture 101 it is," she said, chewing with her mouth open. "If it's anything to do with clothes, house-elves get right offended."

"Manners 101: shut your mouth," I said.

"Oy! I was just trying to help," she said, offended.

"I meant, don't chew with your mouth open," I said.

Belinda stuck her saliva and mush-covered tongue out at me.

"You're disgusting," I said.

"Be not afraid of disgustingness: some are born disgusting, some achieve disgustingness, and some have disgustingness thrust upon them," Belinda declared like the maniac she was.

"And which one are you? The first one?" I asked.

Belinda grinned, her teeth streaked with bits of pastry, and didn't answer. When we reached the library Belinda groaned. "Closed. See you tomorrow then, all right?"

" 'Night," I said, watching her stride away. "Are you sure the quiz will be easy?" I called to her.

"Supremely so!" she called back over her shoulder.

Keeping my fingers crossed,  
Mona

Writing Poetry: Attempt #4

_A beautiful snake  
Big, beautiful, and blonde  
Her fangs dripping in pastry  
She lures me in the library  
Tangled in strange friendship  
Twisting Shakespeare around  
She's cleverer than she looks  
Although she doesn't read books  
A Slytherin at first glance  
But a second look, it's Ravenclaw  
She's one of the boys  
Born to be disgusting  
She overdoes it most days  
She's all in your face  
And all over the place  
If life were a road she's charging down  
Its worn paved stones  
Screaming nonsense  
I wouldn't even know_

--

Dear Nuggs,

We got our Potion quiz results back. Both Neville and Cassidy got one hundred percents, Belinda got a ninety three, and I got a seventy two. Life isn't fair my arse-it's Belinda who makes it that way!

P'Oedly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

It's after dinner now and I'm no longer annoyed at Belinda, even though she didn't even apologize to me yet ("Seventy two percent? Mona, I expected better of you!" is NOT an apology). I can't hold grudges to save my life. I just can't. I'm horrible that way. Wait. Belinda's coming over to me now, along with Neville (I was walking back from the library, writing in you).

Back. Apparently Belinda's bullied Cassidy into getting us into Slytherin House but we've got to go right now, while most Slytherins are getting supper. I hope this turns out all right…

Back. The Slytherin common room oozes drearinesss. Cassidy just sniffed when I told her that. Draco unfortunately was there, and at first he was getting all territorial but then he warmed up to us (probably because he had no one else to talk to) and started telling these tall tales about Harry and his friends. Said they were trying to hide a dragon. "That sounds a bit stupid," Belinda.

"Actually, it sounds completely stupid," I said. "The least you could do was make a better falsehood. Like 'The Threesome Caught in the Act: Hogwart's Worst Sex Scandal to Date!'"

That did not go over too well with anybody. Draco glared at me, looking slightly nauseated. "Listen, Nuggs, I'm telling the truth," he spat. Like, he literally spat into my face, and I had to wipe the gobbet off and told him to say it, not spray it. He ignored me and continued. "That four-eyed git and his groupies are friends with that idiotic oaf, he's the one with the dragon."

"But if it's true-" Neville turned white.

"They'll be expelled, I reckon," said Draco with a wicked glint in his eye. These Slytherins sure have the evil thing down pat. "I intercepted a note from Ron, it says his brother's going to pick it up tonight, at midnight."

We left before the atmosphere could get even more weird. The last thing I saw before the stone wall closed on us was Cassidy's desperate look as Draco cackled diabolically beside her like the maniac he was. He should give me lessons, I can't cackle to save my life.

"What do you lot think?" asked Belinda.

"Somebody should warn them!" Neville looked upset. "They shouldn't put Gryffindor at risk like that, what with Malfoy knowing-"

"I suppose it might be true, given that Hagrid is probably a bestiality freak," I said. "But I honestly don't give a shit's worth about losing points."

"I say Neville's gullible and you're unpatriotic," Belinda decided.

Belinda left us at the Fat Lady. I said good night to Neville but he was either too frightened or too angry or probably both to answer back. But I know Neville. He'll toss and turn in his four-poster and that'll be it.

Unpatriotically yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

All right, so I was wrong about Neville. He actually snuck out to warn them, the idiot-of course he got caught, he's not exactly the slyest person in the world. Now they've all lost major House points and everyone except Slytherin hates them, even Harry, for crushing the hopes and dreams that someone other than Slytherin would win the Cup this year. And I? I don't particularly care. Merlin's phalanges, these people can get worked up over everything. I told Hermione I wasn't angry at her since I've always thought the points system was stupid anyway but she seemed to get angry at me for not being angry at her! What in the name of Merlin?! Draco got caught too, but nobody cares about a measly little Slytherin when there are four measly little Gryffindors to scapegoat. People are so idiotic I need to stop and try to absorb that overwhelming fact.

-M.

--

Dear Nuggs,

Today I was piling all my dirty robes and things into the laundry chute when I became curious as to where it led. I threw myself in and it was quite fun, like going down an extremely long slide. Turns out it led to one of the dungeons. There were piles upon piles of laundry everywhere, and huge vats of boiling water and miles of clothesline several feet above my head. I ended up in a cart filled with really filthy and terrible-smelling Quidditch robes. I crawled out of there right quick and found an elf staring at me with its enormous eyes. "You're not laundry," it squeaked. It jerked its little finger and suddenly I was flying up the chute-and let me tell you, the other way around isn't fun at all. I bumped into different parts of the chute and was banged up and bruised until I flew out of it and crashed onto my dormitory floor.

Lavender and Parvati had come in while I was down there and were sitting on Lavender's bed giggling at me. "Did you just fly out of the laundry chute?" Lavender asked.

"What did it look like?" I grumbled. I hobbled out to take a bath and rid myself of all that testosterone. Later I wondered how the elf could stand being in such a place since it was filled with clothes but Belinda later told me, after much laughing after my little incident (which I really regret telling her), that only the oddball house-elves who consider themselves free handle the laundry and there are only about a handful. All of them are bossed around by Filch, who supervises. House-elves don't get it too great. I'd feel even more bad for them if that elf hadn't turned me black and blue.

Achingly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Saw Dumbledore today. I was in the entrance hall, throwing stones at the hourglasses that keep track of the points in an attempt to destroy them and thus the points system-at least, disable it temporarily, when Dumbledore passed by and stopped to watch.

"Good day to you, Miss Li," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "I see you have gone for a more extreme method in attempting to conquer the points system."

"Yeah," I said. "Would you mind taking off whatever protective spells are on them so I can break the blasted things?"

"I'm afraid that would make me an accessory to vandalism," Dumbledore said, waving his wand so that all the pebbles I had thrown flew out the open double doors. He looked at his watch. "Just in time for lunch. It would be my pleasure to escort you to the Great Hall."

I let him escort me and we went our separate ways, but not before I told him I wasn't giving up. He told me he wouldn't have it any other way. What a funny old man.

Musingly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Studying late into the night with Neville in the common room. We've made flashcards and such. Neville takes so long to come up with the answers I've resorted to the sucker punching method Belinda uses. Right now he's struggling with the properties of powdered Blood-Sucking Bugbear teeth, so I'm thinking about boxing his right ear this time. We have only a sputtering candle and two lit wands to see by and that's not much, considering the best notes we have are written by Belinda and she has the smallest handwriting in existence I warrant. I can't work in these bloody conditions. Lumos is NOT magical, I don't care what anyone tells you. You know what's magical? Lightbulbs! It only takes one to light up the whole room! Merlin's ankles, I think wizards really underestimate Muggles sometimes. Better go; Neville has his face scrunched up, meaning his guard's let down. Cue necessary gesture of violence.

Tiredly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

I've been wondering about Lord Voldemort (I don't have much of a problem saying or writing his name although look where that's got me-countless mouth scrubbings and ostracism. Still, isn't it stupid to be afraid of a name? I mean, if I saw Voldemort in the flesh I'd probably go screaming and running down the street but his name-what's it going to do, scare me with how much it looks like a typo? Ridiculous.) I know he was one of the Darkest wizards of all time and Harry was the one who defeated him but what exactly happened there? "For reasons unknown, You-Know-Who drew his wand in order to destroy the one-year-old infant. Also for reasons unknown, he was unable to do so, and his Killing Curse rebounded upon him, rendering one of the Darkest wizards of all time dead," according to this history book I was skimming through at the library (I was supposed to be looking up some goblin rebellion or other, but got sidetracked). Real helpful, _Modern Magical History_. I'm thinking maybe Harry has these secret powers nobody knows, and he's keeping them hidden because he doesn't want anybody know, else other Dark wizards will try to go after him, and maybe Voldemort found out somehow so that's why he tried to kill him, but Harry used his secret powers (some kind of baby defense mechanism?) and did evil Voldypoo in. Really interesting stuff.

It also got me thinking about Harry's scar. It's shaped like a lightning bolt, which is really weird but also really wicked. If it's the aftermath of a curse rebound I think I might let Parkinson nab me with one of her poorly aimed hexes, preferably on my wrist in the shape of a little half moon. Ta da, instant tattoo! First I'd have to find out how to deflect and absorb a spell at the same time. Gah, it sounds too complicated. I think I'll just draw a little crescent on my arm with some nice uncomplicated ink.

Cheers,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Finished _Wendelin the Weird_, although I haven't had time for much reading lately (bloody exams). It was really good. It wasn't a book though, it was more of a play, written by someone named Tessa Bunglewick (the William Shakespeare of the wizarding world, Belinda says). What a weird woman though, wanting to be publicly humiliated all the time all for a little bit of ticklish feeling. My favorite part was when she pretended to be a balding old headmaster and had to turn the schoolteacher into a toad because she fancied her, not knowing she was really a witch. Belinda's favorite part was the "romantic witty banter" the witch hunter and Wendelin have, which I find otherwise:

WENDELIN: "Love is naught but a taste of foolishness."

FAGAN: "True, but wonderful in the way that it renders the drinker stupefied with a single drop…and you are a mouthful to swallow."

WENDELIN: "This banter says a mouthful."

FAGAN: "And yet you continue to sing."

WENDELIN: "Yes. I sing and they convict me, and I move on with no glance behind."

FAGAN: "I see you turn with your eyes so I catch you at a lie."

WENDELIN: "You catch me at lies but you will never at chase."

FAGAN: "I profess that I shall try with another line, and swear to you it is true, that I am partial to you wholeheartedly."

WENDELIN: "You are like the rest, then-no one here is unbiased, and that makes poor judgement indeed. Which is why I stand here."

FAGAN: "You cannot stand there if you are affixed in my mind."

WENDELIN: "You are shameless in your flirtations. You think I will relent? You turn trickery against me I warrant."

FAGAN: "No illusions can stop the genuineness of my heartstrings, tainted with love for you."

WENDELIN: "Words that freeze me harder still, a reverse effect not to your liking."

FAGAN: "I am catching you at it again, and methinks that my speech melts you softer still."

WENDELIN: "Still your mockery and begone, bane of my existence."

Merlin's eyebrows, you call that flirting? I may not know much about love but that just seemed like a pile of bollocks to me.

Puzzlingly yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

There was a Hogsmeade trip today. Belinda and I tried to sneak past Filch and got points docked because of it. Bastard. (Because of getting caught, not the points docked.) I heard Honeydukes was fantastic, and it would've taken my mind off the upcoming exams. Today was the last Flying lesson and we got a bloody exam in there as well! We had to answer questions about broom safety rules and then demonstrate perfect flying technique. I got a ninety one, but still. Exams make me sick. I colored my tongue purple again with that candy Cassidy seems so fond of and went to Madam Pomfrey, claiming I had examitis. Got more points docked and a scolding. I passed the Weasley twins on my way from the hospital wing. I stuck my tongue out at them and they grinned and stuck out green-colored tongues back at me. "Never hurts to try," said George.

"Devilish minds think alike," added Fred, winking.

I was on my way to the dorm but then all that pumpkin juice kicked in and I had to use the bathroom desperately, so there was no choice but to use Myrtle's. She made fun of my knickers and I told her why was she looking, was she a lesbian? Then she flounced away in a huff and I expect she'll make my bath cold again but it was worth it.

I'll highlight some History of Magic notes, then it's off to bed I go.

Yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

Exams are done with. I'm not worried about my written papers except for maybe History of Magic-there were just too many facts to go over. My pineapple danced okay in Charms. My snuffbox was pretty so McGonagall gave me an extra five points, but it also had whiskers, so she took them away. It was really very pointless (no pun intended). The Forgetfulness Potion wasn't too tricky and Herbology wasn't hard at all (we had to weed a garden of lemboks, which are very touchy and ugly little flowered things used in a variety of vanity potions). I know I bombed Astronomy so I'm not going to bother fretting about it, and Quirrell's exams were laughably easy so I'm not going to fret about those either. Neville and Cassidy are fretting about everything, though, and Belinda's just chattering on about some random thing or other as she always does. I'm looking forward to going home, to summer, to no longer being an itty bitty first-year. I'm not, however, looking forward to homework. Blasted teachers.

I think this'll be my last entry for the school year, Nuggs, since there's really not much to report on anyway. My life's quite boring I have to admit and the only reason this diary has pages upon pages of my round and semi-sloppy handwriting is that I tend to ramble a lot and write too big. So until next time, Nuggs. Attached is an ode to you.

Love,  
Mona

Writing Poetry: Attempt #4

_My best friend is very quiet  
He's nothing without my words  
Always staring blankly back  
Until I splatter him with ink  
He forces me to think  
Silence meets my silly rants  
He's a very good listener  
He used to be a Muggle  
Until Grandmum turned him magic  
Now he'll live forever in paper glory  
I'll poke and prod him  
With the nub of my quill  
But he doesn't mind  
He'll hibernate in the summer  
And I'll miss him and his mum ways  
And his black and white suit  
He's the best friend I ever had  
And his name is Nuggs._

--

Dear Nuggs,

Okay, I lied. So much has happened that I'm trying to get it down all quickly before I have to leave (it's the last day). It seems that Harry has some kind of knack for heroism because he saved the world _again_, sometime during the last week of Hogwarts, and this time he can actually remember it properly! According to the grapevine, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were foiling some evil plot or trying to get some treasure, or maybe both. They had to go through a series of obstacles set up by the teachers to prove their worth or something, I'm not too sure. But obstacles included a Transfigured chess set, five huge trolls, an angry horde of Golden Snidgets, a three-headed dog named Fluffy, a cooking class, an alternate dimension, and finally a huge beanstalk which led up to a giant who said FEE FI FO FUM HERMIONE'S SMART AND RON'S DUMB (Fred and George told me this part, so I wouldn't put too much stock in this version). Harry was captured by the giant and Quirrell tried to rescue him but was killed and Ron was knocked out and then suddenly he wasn't and Hermione and him went to get Dumbledore who managed to get Harry back and now everyone loves him (Harry) again for being so terribly heroic and all. I heard Ron got to keep the gold harp and Hermione's cheerleading uniform is at the cleaner's. Who knows what really happened-Lavender and Parvati badgered Hermione about it but she wouldn't say a word (I was eavesdropping).

Anyway, so Quirrell's dead. Nobody seems too sad about it. We didn't even drink in his name or anything at the banquet. Slytherin was supposed to win the House Cup but Gryffindor did instead, thanks to Dumbledore's awarding of points to Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville (I suspect a playing of favorites was involved here). How did Neville play a role in all this? The idiot didn't get it the first time he did it-he tried to stop them from getting into mischief again, and got the Body Bind Curse put on him. Supposably that's brave. I'm guessing there's a fine line between courage and stupidity, which doesn't make me feel any more secure, being in Gryffindor House. Guess in the end we're just a House full of twats. All right, I sound a bit sore here, but that's because McGonagall was all for blaming _me_ for Body Binding Neville-she woke me up five in the morning to yell at me-and it turns out it was Hermione, but it was okay for _her,_ because she saved the day with Harry. Anyway, the won-back points was just too much for everyone so they started piling on Neville-literally-and everyone was just clapping and cheering and wrapped around the stupid little points system's finger. I mean honestly. People are idiots. The whole fuss was all about points to begin with and it's just so silly. I vow to destroy you someday, Points System. I really will.

Exams results came out. I got a ninety eight in Charms, a ninety four in Transfiguration, an eighty seven in Potions, a ninety two in History of Magic, a hundred in both Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology, and a seventy five in Astronomy so that's not too bad, considering I thought I was going to fail it. Belinda got low nineties in everything (she never studies so I don't know how she manages it) and Cassidy, surprisingly, got better marks than all of us, except in History of Magic. "Ravenclaws are smart, but most of us are inclined to be lazy," Belinda observed. "That's why Slytherins get better grades, they may not be known as clever but they're ambitious, so they work harder for it."

"But Hermione's ranked number one in our class and she's a Gryffindor," I pointed out.

"Oh. Well, she's a freak," said Belinda cheerfully.

Got to go. Packing needs to be done. I'm going to miss Hogwarts, but I still can't wait to be home.

Nostalgically yours,  
Mona

--

Dear Nuggs,

In a boat with Belinda, Cassidy, and Neville, heading back to the station. I feel like I'm where I started-I'm soaking wet because Belinda's splashing everyone and Cassidy is making things worse by rocking the boat back and forth, whimpering and trying to escape. Good thing you can't get wet, Nuggs.

Belinda's just asked to write in here and I told her it was a diary, not a yearbook, but she insisted, so I figure I might as well let her, and then suddenly Neville and Cassidy wanted to too.

HELLO MONA! YOU'RE SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME PRETENDING NOT TO LOOK BUT I BET YOU ARE! QUIT IT! ALL RIGHT SO I HOPE YOU CAN VISIT ME OVER THE SUMMER, I CAN THROW THE TRIPLETS OUT OF THEIR ROOM AND YOU CAN KIP IN THERE, IF YOU'D LIKE! IF NOT, OWL ME! EVERY WEEK! NO, EVERY HOUR! BY THE MINUTE! I'M JUST KIDDING. I HOPE YOU HAVE A BLOODY GOOD SUMMER AND ETC. AND NEVER LET THEM TAKE YOU DOWN, YOU HEARTLESS THING YOU!

Hugs and kisses (because I know you detest anything of the sort hahahaha)  
Belinda

P.S. THANKS FOR LISTENING TO MY YAKS

Dear Mona

I hope you have a good summer and thanks for being my friend and helping me with my homework sometimes even though Hermione is a better tutur (hehe just giving you a taste of your own medicen) and erm…maybe next year we could be Herbology partners again? Sorry about you being blamed for my Body Bind, I know you're still a little anoyed about that…

Cheers  
Neville

P.S. My grandmum says you sound like a nice girl.

You won't tell anyone about you-know-what, will you? I don't want…I mean…never mind. Have a nice summer. I think I'll get some voodoo dolls for next year, what do you think? Cassidy

--

**A/N:** Apologies for my poor attempts at sounding somewhat British, you'll have to forgive me for being an American Harry Potter fan. :x Year 2, coming soon! Stay tuned, por favor!


	7. Mona is Not Amused

**A/N:** Remember what I said about "coming soon"? Forget it. x)

---

Dear Nuggs,

It's been awhile, hasn't it? Tomorrow I go back to Hogwarts. I have to say, I'm looking forward to it. Home was nice, but the monotony got to me after the first month or so. (Hogwarts monotony is much better than home monotony, that's for certain.) Went to Diagon Alley last week to get those bloody expensive Lockhart books, among other things. The five I've read so far are all rubbish (Mum says they're wish fulfillment fantasies, which is the current opiate of the masses). Diagon Alley was a bit embarrassing, what with my parents oohing and ahhing over the place like overexcited children: Dad's not quite used to it all yet, even though he reads _The Daily Prophet_ and our house is brimming with wizarding stuff, and Mum's always like that. I bumped into Dean Thomas on my way to meet Mum at The Leaky Cauldron. He was growing his hair out into an Afro. "Is that a wig?!" I said before I could stop myself. The small talk that happened afterward was very awkward, to say the least. Yes, I have no people skills, but you already know that.

Belinda's letters to me over the summer are in a stacked pile on my desk. She must've been bored, as each letter got progressively longer. Her last one to me (from three days ago) was a total of five pages. Despite her invitation, I wasn't able to visit (you know Asian parents). Neville's written three or four times. I think he's been trying to impress me with his doings but I imagine he's been making them up. Sentences like "I was in cavurn a dragon flaming at me and my bieceps to death" makes me certain of this. I haven't heard anything at all from Cassidy, but that's Cassidy for you.

Oh, and yesterday! Well, I was bored, and while my dad was trying to coax me into doing a little underage magic I noticed Robert (my neighbor, remember?) in his house, playing a video game. (The windows in our living rooms faced each other.) Which gave me an idea. I got a magical picture of me out of the frame on the wall and taped it to the window. The window is small and the picture big, so the effect was good. His parents later came knocking on the door, demanding that I stop making faces, as they were hosting a cocktail party and the guests were distracted. Which just goes to show you that you can have magical fun, without breaking the rules! I did get a scolding from Mum however.

Got to go. I still haven't packed, and I need to finish up the last bit of homework I'd procrastinated on. I hear Mum coming up the stairs, yelling at me…it probably has something to do with Robert and my picture (our bedroom windows face each other, you know).

Yours,  
Mona

P.S. Dad bought me a broom! It's a Cleansweep-nothing special, but I can't wait to fly it at school (bobbing about my bathroom has gotten boring).

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Writing by wandlight again. Below is a summarization of today:

The train station: My parents gave the usual mushy goodbye and I got on the Express. I was yanked into a compartment by a very tan Belinda, who gave me something less like a hug and more like a full body death grip. Neville and Cassidy were already seated, and we started talking about our summer ("My older brothers have started a band, but the prats won't let me in it," complained Belinda, interrupting Neville's mournful tale of his grandfather's death), Quidditch ("HARRY POTTER OR NO, GRYFFINDOR IS GOING DOWN!" she thundered, bits of Chocolate Frog spraying out of her mouth), Gilderoy Lockhart ("Idiot," said Belinda dismissively, helping herself to more of my Chocolate Frogs), and etc. ("MENSTRUATING IS A BUGGER!" shouted Belinda, oblivious to Neville's blushing).

The carriage ride: was very interesting, mostly because Neville started gibbering about these skeletal horse things that were supposably pulling the carriage. (Belinda reckons it's just trauma over his grandfather's death.)

The feast: was very good, but even as I was tucking in a lamb chop I was thinking of my favorite staple food (rice, obviously) and how I would have to do without it until the holidays arrived. Whispers about the absence of Harry and Ron raged from table to table: something about them getting to Hogwarts by flying car and then crashing it into a tree. I was introduced to Belinda's younger brother, Peter, who was sorted into Ravenclaw the same as Belinda and was just as big and blonde, although a bit more quiet. Then Dumbledore announced that Lockhart would be our new DADA teacher. Screaming from fangirls and retching from me ensued.

The common room: loads of cheering and applause for Harry and Ron-it turns out the flying car thing had actually happened (I really don't know what to say, save for how'd they even get their hands on a flying car??)

My dorm: Lavender and Parvati and even _Hermione_ are gushing about Lockhart. They are in some kind of fangirling session right now. Sally-Anne is even in on it, but at least she's fangirling_ silently_ to herself (How can I tell then, you ask? The fact she was hanging onto the girls' every word while clutching a picture of Lockhart clued me in a bit). I am trying to ignore them and shall also try to sleep.

Wish me the best of luck,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Went deaf at the breakfast table this morning. Ron's mum sent him a Howler for the flying car incident, although I didn't know what a Howler was until Belinda told me afterwards. All I knew was that my ears hurt from the sound of an angry, female, possibly middle-aged voice bouncing all over the Hall (the letter being only three persons away from me).  
I've noticed Lockhart's been talking to Harry a lot. Harry doesn't look too happy about it-I wouldn't either if I were him, Lockhart seems like such a prat. He's arrogant and makes bad jokes and today he gave us a "little quiz" about these stupid, pointless details in his stupid books and I'm certain I missed near all of them. (I haven't even cracked open_ Wanderings with Werewolves _and_ Year with the Yeti _yet-I didn't know that we were supposed to have read them all before school started.) And I really don't see how a quiz on his crackpot books can be called "defense against the Dark Arts," unless we're trying to bore the Arts to death. I mean, really. And then Lockhart let loose a bunch of pixies and they went absolutely mad. I managed to be one of the first to escape, only mildly ink-splattered and missing my Gadding with Ghouls book (literally missing it-I would never miss it figuratively!). Lockhart returned it to me at dinner, saying he wouldn't want me to miss my chance to reread and reflect upon his wisdom. I nearly gagged.

Yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Horribly embarrassing thing happened in the Hall yesterday. I was eating breakfast when all of a sudden Puck comes soaring into my bacon with a package made up of newspaper bits, because Mum is horribly cheap. She didn't do a good job with the wrapping, so the contents of the package peeped through and it turned out to be several pairs of bloomers (I needed some, but I didn't expect that Mum would be so careless…or buy me such scanty little lacy things). Seamus, who was sitting next to me, saw and snorted his pumpkin juice. "Is that-"

I thwacked him on the head and he shut up. No one else saw, but now every time Seamus sees me he grins like a perverted git. I wish I knew how to do a Howler, so I could send one to Mum. And how to get out of detention, which I got for giving Seamus the bird during Transfiguration.

Angrily yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

I haven't done any magic all summer, so using it so much in classes feels a little funny. Belinda says it's called getting your magic legs, but I think she was just joking. She told me she wanted to start a Drama Club, would I like to join? I told her yes, but only for the brownie points. Belinda asked how do you mean and I said, you know, universities like that stuff-doing extracurriculars and such-and she started laughing. "But there aren't any wizarding universities!" she exclaimed. "Didn't you know?"

I told her no, my mum neglected to mention it to me. Dad will probably be upset, he's always wanted me to pursue higher education and when he finds out it doesn't exist…anyway, Belinda made me promise I'd join, and Cassidy too. I'm not sure what Belinda's got planned, but it's backstage work for me and Cassidy, that much is certain.

On another note…Neville's been messing around with hair potions, wiggling his eyes and asking me how am I doing, and if I've noticed anything new about him. I told him to quit acting like a git and leave his hair alone. Funnily enough, he hasn't offered to be my Herbology partner lately.

Contemplatively yours,  
Mona

P.S. Boys. It seems Seamus told Dean about my mishap, because now they both grin at me like perverted gits.

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

The Slytherins have come up with another name for me: Squiggle. I think I liked Nuggs better although I have to admit "Squiggle" is rather clever (not to say that you're thick, Nuggs, har har). I wish Cassidy would stick up for me, though that would be expecting a bit much from her. I asked her about the voodoo dolls and she said all she needs is one of Tracey Davis's hairs. I said isn't that Dark magic and she gave me that don't ask, don't tell look and I said you wouldn't use one on me would you and she said no with shifty eyes. I'm considering putting on a hairnet whenever I see her.

Nervously yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Belinda came storming into the Hall today at lunch. She marched right up to me and told me the Drama Club was a no-go, there was some sort of rule that forbade theatrical productions from being presented at Hogwarts.* I said sorry to hear that although I wasn't, and-was that a little white lie that came out of my mouth? It's a sure sign of progress-then Belinda sat down and told me her new idea for a club. "I was thinking that Hogwarts needs its own newspaper-you know, so the students can be updated on what's going on and such," said Belinda, eating off my plate.

"There isn't a newspaper already?" I said, watching as she ate the last of my grapes.

"No, there isn't," she said, not even looking a bit remorseful at having eaten the remainder of my favorite fruit, "there's only a House newsletter thing that gets sent to the parents. It's also posted on each House's notice board sometimes, but nobody ever really reads it. Well, at least I don't."

"You shouldn't unknowingly assume your actions reflect the majority's," I said, reciting one of Mum's adages.

"There's been an attempt, Dumbledore's told me," continued Belinda, ignoring me, "but that was ages ago and it failed miserably, because all of the Houses hated each other, ended up magic brawls and trips to the hospital wing-but see, we can change that! You, me, Cassidy-I'll find us a Hufflepuff, don't worry-and it's stupid to have a House-exclusive paper, there'd be no point-together we can change Hogwarts for the better and enlighten it in the process!" She smiled at me expectantly.

I started a slow clap. She punched me. "Ow!" I complained. "Why'd you go and do that for?"

"Quit patronizing me," Belinda retorted. "Anyway, I've got it all planned out-The Hogwarts Herald, how do you like that?"

"I like it fine," I said. "But I don't see how it's going to work this time around. We all hate each other still. And no one's going to want to read a newspaper run by only three people, and second-years at that."

"FOUR people," corrected Belinda. "I told you I'll coerce a Hufflepuff into doing it with us-I have someone in mind already-and I'll see to it that there are more-we'll just have to spread out a bit, agewise. And we don't hate each other anymore! It's mostly just Slytherin we have something against, and vice versa. But that's all right. It's called_ progress_, Mona. By the time we have the newspaper up and running-quit writing in your diary, Mona, and look at me-we'll be that much closer to our goal."

"Our goal of what?"

"INTERHOUSE UNITY!" she bellowed into my ear. I flinched.

"Dumbledore's agreed, he's made it all official and everything," said Belinda briskly, standing up and grabbing a handful of biscuits from the table. "I'm going to set things up, get more people, and I'll tell you when the upcoming meeting is, all right? I'll see you, then." She spun around and strode off without waiting for reply.

Well, that's Belinda for you. And my arm's still throbbing like mad.

Irritably yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Today I had my first interaction with The Boy Who Lived. You might recall that I've said almost the same thing before, but that was different-that time he didn't say anything, he just glared and stormed off to the hospital wing. Today we had an actual conversation, in Charms. It went something like this:

HARRY: Hey-erm, do you have a spare quill?  
ME: Yes, I do.  
HARRY: Er, well-d'you mind lending it to me?  
ME: No, I don't mind. In fact, you can keep it, because it's very unlikely that you're going to give it back to me anyway. I have experience in these matters.  
HARRY: Thanks…?

All in all, I think it went rather well.

Yours,  
Mona

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Neville's back to being my Herbology partner again. He's quit messing around with his hair, thank Merlin, but he's still acting a bit funny. Oh well. Today's Transfiguration lesson was particularly hard, we had to change something into its opposite-a fork into a spoon. McGonagall got very frustrated with us and said we couldn't leave until our silver tines turned round. Since Belinda had told me ahead of time about it, I went down to the kitchens and nicked a spoon. In class, after scrunching up my face in feigned concentration and performing the exact wand movement, I switched the tableware when McGonagall wasn't looking. Clever, wasn't it? Hermione and Ron were both glaring at me, though.

"That's a dirty trick," sniffed Hermione. "Cheaters never prosper, Mona."

"Oy, why didn't you nick one for me too?!" hissed Ron.

I ended up being one of the few who could leave when the bell rang. Still, I felt a bit guilty, so I won't cheat anymore. I've seen the error of my ways.*

Morally yours,  
Mona

P.S. *This sentiment bears no guarantee against changes of heart and mind.

-:-

Dear Nuggs,

Today was a nice day, so Belinda and I went outside to do a bit of flying. We don't have Flying class anymore, as it's only a first-year requirement, which I think is a bit dumb-are they saying they only care about the physical well being of eleven-year-olds? Some can join Quidditch, but that leaves the rest of us to get fat on puddings and the like, since most can't be bothered exercising on their own. Tragic, really. We were playing Shuntbumps by the stands and also watching the Ravenclaw team practice. It was fun, but anything to do with Belinda always ends in bodily harm-she knocked me off my broom so many times I warrant my IQ's dropped a bit. A gaggle of first-years were sitting around and laughing at me getting knocked off, so I tried to jinx them collectively but my wand just sort of emitted a few angry sparks and fizzled out and they laughed some more. Learning mob magic is now on my mental checklist of things to do before I die.

Huffily yours,  
Mona

P.S. Detention was lines. Boring and cramped my hand. Tried to use this as an excuse for why I turned in Potions essay late; did not work, was docked points, and now have more lines to do tonight. Bloody hell.

---

*see _Beedle the Bard_. XD


End file.
